


The Code of Chivalry

by cascade7



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Jealousy, M/M, Prince Mark, jjp, knight jackson, knight jb, prince jinyoung
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 01:19:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 71,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5848315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cascade7/pseuds/cascade7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark is the kingdom's prince and Jackson is his knight who has pledged his life to serve the prince. In an odd mixture of loyalty, servanthood and friendship, the connection between the two are tested time and time again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is an introductory chapter and would be a slow build. it's mainly markson for a while. Since Jackson is a fencer and with that ISAC archery clip, i couldn't help but throw them into a medieval world of kingdoms, knights, and tournaments.

“Y-your royal highness,” Yugyeom stammered as he quickened his steps to keep up with Mark who was striding ahead of him. Yugyeom knew he should at least remind the prince that he wasn’t supposed to be on the training grounds but how does a pageboy go about telling one’s superior, as in _ultimate_ superior, what he should or shouldn’t do? Gulping, Yugyeom watched the fair-haired prince finally stop, evidently locating what he had been after. 

Yugyeom decided to try again, “His majesty the king gave orders that-”

Mark’s only response was to raise his hand ever so slightly in a seemingly nonchalant gesture which effectively silenced his pageboy. Mark’s eyes narrowed, fixed on a dark-haired lad at a distance who was busy hacking away at a sack of straw. Of course there were others around, it was the knight’s training ground after all. Some, like the one Mark’s attention was focused on, were also attempting to master particular swings of the sword while others were tending to horses or polishing armoury in service of men who risked their lives to guard the kingdom’s honour. Even from afar, Mark could tell that there was a swiftness and agility in Jackson’s steps that placed him above the others in training but it did nothing to quell the irritation in him that had only grown since mid-day. 

“Get him,” Mark ordered Yugyeom who could only snap his heels together, bow quickly and run off unto the field. Mark’s eyes never left the raven-haired lad, watching as Yugyeom finally got Jackson’s attention. Mark felt a slight flicker of satisfaction when he saw Jackson visibly startle before handing his sword to one of the other squires and rushed towards Mark with Yugyeom trailing behind him. This satisfaction Mark felt, but he didn’t show. No, not he. Not a prince of the kingdom. He had been taught to always keep his expression lax, uninterested – lofty, as befitted a royal. Even his poise as he stood dressed in clothes considered casual for the prince and yet was made of material that could feed a poor household for a month was one of polite disdain calculated to discourage anyone from approaching him. 

“You are royalty, Mark. Always remember that. It’s in your blood.” Those words were drummed into him time and time again by both his parents, their advisors and his tutors. Mark knew he carried a heavy responsibility especially if he wished to ensure that his father’s kingdom continued to prosper which was why he went through all the teaching, classes and training as well as endured horribly boring events and ceremonies without much complaint. Outsiders who saw him this way commented to each other how polished and composed Mark was even for a prince at a young age of 22 – how very royal in bearing and countenance with his fair hair and complexion that made maidens green with envy. But that wasn’t all that Mark had. Mark was certainly intelligent and along with everything else, he was rumoured to be a good fighter as well though his father had decreed that no one was ever to challenge the prince so aside from his tutors, no one had ever seen him in combat. Still, the mysteriousness of it all helped build Mark’s reputation and simply put, his kingdom was extremely proud to have such a prince to call their own. 

“Your royal highness!” greeted Jackson as soon as he was close enough to be heard. Mark could already see the contrite grin on Jackson’s face but didn’t respond. Only his eyes showed that he was watching. Jackson ran right up to the prince, stopping a few feet away to rest his hands on his knees in order to catch his breath. He had run at full speed, even Yugyeom with his long legs was only just catching up to where Jackson now stood. 

Mark just kept silent, noting the grimy and sweaty state Jackson was in, no doubt from a whole day of training. It was just how Jackson usually looked and smelled and it was something Mark had accepted long ago. Jackson was always messy, usually with a smudge of dirt on his cheeks or nose, clothes usually slightly askew because the lad was just too active to keep still, locks of hair that were slightly too long because Jackson couldn’t be bothered with constant grooming swept back to keep it out of his eyes but with wisps always escaping no matter how carefully Jackson tied the thin strip of cloth around his forehead. 

Jackson straightened up only for a brief moment, waited until he caught Mark’s gaze and then bowed deeply in apology. “I humbly beg your forgiveness, your royal highness. Your lowly serva-” It was obvious to Mark that Jackson was going to go into a monologue with words that would have sounded like he had committed a thousand wrongs if not for the slight tongue-in-cheek hint in his voice that Mark picked up immediately. The fact that Jackson was exaggerating made Mark want to bite his cheek to stop from chuckling. Since he was royal, however, he contented himself by signalling for Yugyeom to give Jackson a smack on his back – something that Yugyeom did with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Ow!” cried Jackson, jumping backwards, hands instantly reaching around to massage the part of his back that had fell victim to Yugyeom’s hand. “That hurt!” he accused Yugyeom with a pout. 

“Exaggeration has to be taught a lesson,” Mark commented which caused Jackson to grumble below his breath. With a slight glance over his shoulder which indicated that Jackson was allowed to remain in Mark’s company, he set off towards another part of the castle with Jackson and Yugyeom in his wake.

As they trotted along, Jackson cleared his throat loudly. He did want to apologise for he had forgotten his promise with the prince. When Mark had received a new hawk, a gift from a neighbouring kingdom, Jackson had hinted, asked and in the end, begged to be able to witness the hawk’s training even if it meant risking Mark’s anger. Only royalty owned hawks and all the birds of that species in the land belonged to the king but the superiority and elegance of the winged predator was something that captivated Jackson. He was only a squire, a knight in training, and would never have been able to see the creature up close so when Jackson caught Mark smiling, he took it to mean that Mark was in a good mood and Jackson decided on the spur of the moment to blurt out his request. And so Mark had consented to allow Jackson to watch. In fact, the prince wasn’t even sure if there was a rule against it because no one had ever wanted to just watch before. There shouldn’t be any harm in this, really. As promised, Mark had given Jackson the time and place and when the time came, Mark waited, and waited, and waited but no Jackson. Mark had suspected the squire was preoccupied with training and lo and behold, Mark had been right. 

“Ahem,” coughed Jackson in such a fake manner that Yugyeom had to bite back a guffaw because it was so obvious. Jackson had never been one for tact. Jackson caught Yugyeom’s teasing smile and glared at the younger but bigger-bodied page. 

“Your royal highness,” Jackson tried again, daring to close the distance between them by half a step so now Mark was one and a half feet in front instead of two. “I really am sorry. It’s really my mistake. It was the new delivery of swords that did it. They were supposed to come tomorrow but the metalsmiths were quick and when we got the swords I just had to try them out and-”

Just like before, Mark merely raised his hand to indicate that Jackson stop talking, not even bothering to turn around as they continued walking to another field that was used for falconry. Jackson clamped his lips together, trying not to let his expression show that he was slightly hurt. It wasn’t that Jackson expected Mark to pay him full attention. Mark was the prince of the kingdom for crying out loud, and Jackson was a mere squire whom Mark seemed to have taken a liking too. At least, Jackson sometimes thought so. In comparison to how Mark treated the others, Jackson really did think that his and the prince’s relationship was a bit different. However, just like how Mark had merely raised his hand, Jackson could sense that in many ways, Mark was just as distant from him as the prince was from others. It was just that Jackson was privileged with a tad more interaction with the prince, interactions usually carried out in light-hearted banter that he treasured and was extremely grateful for though he had to constantly remind himself not to let it get to his head. Just like how he had tried to exaggerate his apology the first time in an attempt to make the prince smile, he knew that the same response would have in all probability ended in a flogging for many others. Yet, for some reason, Mark allowed Jackson such leeway. Still, there was a line that Jackson was anxious not to cross, not if it meant the end of their relationship as it was. 

So Jackson said nothing more until they got to the desired field. There, he stood by Yugyeom as Mark ambled over to the servant in charge of tending the hawks to pick up some thick leather gloves and extra cloth to wrap around his right forearm. A quick nod at the servant and the lad stepped back so that Mark could coax the bird of prey unto his arm with a whistle. The magnificent silver feathers with black accented specks of the bird ruffled as it hopped off its perch, sharp claws gripping Mark’s glove. It was blindfolded for now but it would soon be released. Part of the training was to get the bird used to its name which Mark had christened Johan. Mark had spent hours and hours with it until it got used to Mark’s presence and today was the first day Johan would fly in the open. Moving out more into the middle of the field, Mark murmured to the bird, saying its name while clucking in a low tone to soothe it. Judging that the bird was comfortable and at ease, Mark removed its blindfold, the creature’s brilliant eyes instantly alert. 

“Go,” said Mark, his voice gentle as he moved his arm upwards, signalling for Johan to take off. And Johan did. With powerful beats of its wings, it rose higher and higher, relishing the drafts of air and flight. 

Jackson watched, transfixed, eyes following Johan’s every swoop and each dip of its wings. Every movement of the bird was so graceful but radiated with such controlled power that it was breathtaking. Jackson didn’t notice when the servant released a rabbit at Mark’s signal but when Johan took a sudden dive, Jackson gasped. Johan sliced through the air and before Jackson realised it, Johan had secured its reward. 

Mark hadn’t moved from where he stood, his arms resting at his side until he would call Johan back to him and though he had watched as Johan took flight, his eyes had then flickered to Jackson to study the amazement that grew on Jackson’s face, to see the awe in his eyes, and with it, an expression of longing. It was an expression Mark recognised well because he too knew that he shared that longing.

A longing to feel free.

A longing to fly.

Perhaps that was why Mark perceived Jackson differently. That was why Jackson was different from the others. 

That was how they had met.

***

Mark’s head was bent over a messy parchment on which he was trying his best to copy the words of an old poem for his tutor. Learning to read was one thing, Mark enjoyed that part very well. Learning to write though was another. The hours Mark had clutched the quill in his hand, trying to master the subtle curves, strokes and strikes required in order to produce the best penmanship he was capable of was tedious. But it had to be done and so Mark laboured, writing and re-writing the same poem over and over. One more, Mark rejoiced inwardly, just one more and he’d be able to produce the ten copies that his tutor had asked for the next day. Cracking his knuckles, he picked up the quill, dipped it in the bottle of ink

but stopped

“Ka, ka,” a voice called.

Mark looked up from his desk, what was that sound?

“Ka, ka,” the voice called again. 

The first thought that occurred to Mark was that it was the cry of a bird. But not a bird he had ever heard before.

“Ka, ka,” it called again but this time in a pleading tone.

Mark knew then that it was the voice of a human, mostly probably a child not unlike himself. When he heard it once more, Mark rose from his seat and crept over to the window through which the voice had travelled. He did so carefully for he didn’t want to startle the bird, Mark shook his head, the child, he corrected himself. Mark peeked out from behind the curtains, eyes searching the garden. And then he saw him, for it was a boy. A young boy who looked roughly around his age with raven hair that curled into gentle waves. Mark couldn’t tell from where he stood but by the type of clothes the boy was wearing, it would seem that the boy was a servant. Curious, Mark studied the boy’s figure who had his arms stretched as high as he could get, palms cupped together as if he were offering something to… air? 

Though Mark knew it wasn’t decorum, he opened the window and spoke to the boy.

“What are you doing?” Mark asked, already with a hint of the command he held as a prince.

The boy whipped his head around, eyes wide with surprise. The boy had large eyes, large expressive eyes. But Mark wondered if the boy could speak because instead of answering his question, the boy’s mouth just gaped. 

“What are you holding?” asked Mark, tilting his head to the side a little, trying to peer into the boy’s cupped palms that he had brought to his chest. 

“It – it’s a baby bird,” the boy stammered, eyes cast down towards the wee little thing that had still to lose its down. 

Eyebrows raised at the unexpected answer, Mark said with a note of eagerness, “Let me see.”

The boy obeyed and approached the window which Mark was already leaning out of. Because the window was fairly high up, the boy had to hold up the baby bird for Mark to get a closer look. Mark had never seen a baby bird like this before. It looked so soft and delicate that Mark wanted to touch it. Rather than ask, however, Mark merely held out his own palms and though the boy hesitated, he gently tipped the baby bird into Mark’s waiting hands. 

Fascinated, Mark studied the chick that was now chirping weakly, its tiny unformed wings fluttering as it tried to escape. Mark liked it. It wasn’t often that Mark took to anything instantly but there was something about the chick’s fragility and helplessness that made Mark want to protect it, to keep it. So Mark informed the boy of his intention.

“I’m taking it.”

“No, you can’t!” the boy objected urgently, a hand catching hold of the window just in case Mark was going to shut it. “It has to go home,” he explained, his free hand pointing to a tree branch that, true enough, contained a nest. 

Mark’s eyes had narrowed slightly in irritation. No one ever said no to him like this. No one had ever refused him, not counting his parents. No one, that is, until this boy. 

“It can have a new home,” said Mark, his palms encasing the little chick even more.

“No, it has a home,” insisted the boy who was now pressed up right against the window, his head inches inside the frame. “It has a mother so it has a home. Give it back,” he demanded, holding out a palm towards Mark. 

Brows furrowed, Mark studied the boy’s expression. There was a determination and streak of defiance there that Mark didn’t often see. He wondered how far the boy would go if Mark refused but then, the little thing in his palms chirped balefully and this time, there was an answering call.

“Ka, ka,” came a bird’s cry. Mark looked up and saw a bird, a bird that had to be the chick’s mother. 

“See,” the boy whispered, his voice low so as to not scare the mother bird away but firm because he was serious as he looked straight into Mark’s eyes, his gaze unwavering even in the slightest, “She wants him back. He wants to go back.”

Mark blinked slowly, looking down at the soft ball of fluff in his hands and then at the mother bird before meeting’s the boy’s determined gaze, a determination that was now accompanied with a worried brow and pouting lower lip. Hesitating only for a moment, Mark held out his palms and tipped the baby chick back into the boy’s cupped palms but he wasn’t watching the bird. He was watching the boy. He saw relief flood the boy’s face, his brow unknitted as the pout turned into a gentle smile. It was his eyes that took the most of Mark’s attention. Those large clear dark eyes held within their orbs such genuine sensitivity and feeling that Mark, even at the young age of eight, found potently arresting. 

“Come on, little bird,” cooed the boy, a gentle finger tenderly caressing the chick’s tiny head, “let’s get you home.” Then the boy looked up which startled Mark because he hadn’t realised he had been staring at the strange boy. Choosing not to say a word, the boy nodded curtly at Mark and turned away to head towards the tree that housed the little bird’s nest. Mark felt oddly… slighted. It was as if he had upset the boy to the extent that Mark wondered if he had been acting too selfish in wanting to keep the chick. Biting his lower lip, Mark turned away from the window. He really should get back to copying that stupid poem but an instant later, he had leaned his elbows on the windowsill to continue watching the boy. He watched as the boy looked up desperately at the nest high above him. He watched as the boy paced uncertainly between the trunk of the tree and the nest’s perch on the tree’s outer branches. He watched as the helplessness grew while the boy’s posture drooped. 

Suddenly Mark felt that he wanted to help. It could be the slight twinge of guilt he felt or maybe it was out of concern for the bird and its mother or maybe… maybe he just wanted a chance for the boy to talk to him again. Leaving the window, Mark grabbed the stool he had been sitting on and lifted it unto the windowsill.

“Here,” called Mark, hefting the spindly legged wooden stool halfway out of his study. “Use this. This’ll help.”

The boy who had looked over when Mark first spoke caught on to Mark’s idea instantly.

“Yea,” he nodded eagerly in agreement, taking only the time needed to tuck the chick gently in his front pocket, he hastened over to grab the end of the stool to lower it to the ground. He stood the stool up and then looked up expectantly at Mark who was still by the window. 

“What?” Mark asked. He thought the boy should just get on with it. He certainly had no idea what the boy wanted more than that. 

“Aren’t you going to help?” the boy asked, large eyes curious, bright and inviting. 

“C-can I?” 

The boy gave two large nods. “Come on,” he urged, holding up a hand towards Mark just in case Mark needed help getting down.

Inwardly, Mark was questioning everything he was doing at that moment. This boy was a stranger, a servant by the looks of it. And Mark was supposed to stay in his study. As a prince, he had been told never to wander anywhere without guards with him and to always obey his parent’s rules. Yet here he had been, talking to someone whose name he didn’t even know, someone who was inviting him to break his daily routine. And Mark liked it. A mischievous grin spread on his lips as he hoisted a knee up unto the windowsill so that he could jump down. It was higher than he had thought but he wasn’t going to lose his nerve now. He jumped off with a laugh and though his knees buckled when he hit the ground, his smile didn’t flicker. This was fun!

“Come on,” the boy said, taking Mark’s hand and placing it on a leg of the stool while he grabbed the seat. Together, they carried the stool over to the branch and carefully positioned it right under the nest. 

“Okay,” the boy said before taking a deep breath and clambered unto the tall, narrow stool. Slowly, the boy tried to stand but it was clear that he was unstable. Mark watched with growing apprehension and when the boy wobbled, Mark instinctively wrapped his arms around the boy’s calves to keep him steady.

“You alright?” Mark asked, looking up at the other who was smiling down at him.

“Yea,” the boy replied, “just a little bit more.” Reaching into his pocket, the boy took out the little bird and reached as high as he could but it still wasn’t enough. Just a little bit more. If he could stand on the tip of his toes, he’d be able to return the little chick to its nest. Glancing down, he told Mark, “Hold me.” Mark nodded and wound his arms more securely around the boy’s legs. Slowly, agonisingly, the boy balanced precariously unto his toes and succeeded in tipping the chick back into its nest. 

“YES!” the boy whooped in triumph but that spontaneous reaction caused him to lose his balance and sent him, the stool and Mark toppling unto the grass with loud thuds. 

Groaning a little, Mark was the first to push himself to his feet, inspecting his palms that had born the brunt of the impact. Really, if only the boy had climbed down properly or been calmer, this wouldn’t have happened. His palms wouldn’t be stinging and his clothes wouldn’t be this dirty. “Why did you-” Mark began to say, ready to admonish the boy for doing such a dangerous thing when he caught sight of the boy grinning at him. It was a smile of absolute and simple joy. It was a smile that was sincere and it stopped Mark’s breath, let alone his words.

“We did it!” the boy cried, jumping up to his own feet and lightly brushing the blades of grass off his own palms. Eventhough the boy had had a larger fall, he wasn’t fazed by it at all. Instead, he skipped over to Mark and threw his arms around the other to give him a tight hug. “We did it! We did it!” the boy sang into Mark’s ear, pulling back only to keep an arm around Mark’s shoulders in order to watch the mother bird fuss over her little chick.

In the midst of the chirping, Mark’s ears caught hold of another sound. It was someone knocking on a wooden door, _his study’s door,_. “I’ve got to get back,” Mark explained in a rush. Hastily, he ran back to the window and jumped to grab the windowsill. His arms didn’t have that strength, however, to pull himself up and Mark struggled but only for a moment because he felt someone hoisting him up, giving one of his legs a firm footing. Half rolling back into his study, Mark heard one of the many maids calling to him, “Your royal highness, your mother has asked for you!”

“Wait,” Mark called to the maid in command as he scrambled to his feet. Glancing over his shoulder at the boy, he nodded as a thank you and was about to turn away when he remembered something. 

“Hey!” Mark hissed for the boy had already started to leave. When the boy stopped and hurried back, Mark asked quickly, “What’s your name?”

Blinking, the boy answered with a huge smile, “Jackson. My name is Jackson.” 

“Jackson,” repeated Mark to which the boy nodded. “Okay, Jackson,” said Mark by way of goodbye before he pulled the window shut after which he was reprimanded for his tardiness and was shuttled off to the Queen.

***

After releasing and recalling Johan a few times, Mark stopped the training session. With Johan on his arm, blindfolded once more, Mark returned Johan to its perch but not before he had let Jackson admire the bird up close of course. There was great admiration on Jackson’s face as he drank in its carefully crafted built and traced the patterns imprinted on Johan’s feathers. It was a magnificent hawk, absolutely magnificent.

Taking off his glove, Mark commented, “That’s all really. Are you sure you still want to watch Johan’s training?”

Jackson nodded an affirmative, “Of course!” It occurred to him an instant later that his answer might be perceived as impudent so Jackson hastily added, “Only if you allow me to, your highness. If it should so please you.”

“Don’t be late next time?” 

“I won’t! I won’t forget, I promise!”

Mark nodded and they proceeded back into the castle. Just as they were to part ways, Mark and Yugyeom towards the royal chambers while Jackson to the squire’s quarters for dinner, Mark asked Jackson one more question.

“Why are you fascinated with Johan?”

Jackson thought for a second before replying simply, “Because I’ve always wanted to fly.” Smiling, Jackson bowed and waved goodbye in an odd combination of decorum and friendship.

Mark watched Jackson leave and continued on his own way. 

_You are flying, Jackson_ , thought Mark to himself as he remembered Johan soaring through the sky. Little did Jackson know, Mark had given his new hawk a German name, a name if translated into their language meant Jackson.


	2. To protect p.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Mark is annoyed at Jackson who was too engrossed in training. Deciding to visit the town fair, the prince and squire see each other in a different light until trouble erupts.

“Your highness,” gasped Jackson when he noticed the prince slide out cautiously from behind the servant’s door that had been the designated meeting place. Jackson threw decorum to the wind and grasped Mark’s wrist so that he could hiss into the prince’s ear, “I said to wear peasant clothes.”

While others may have to resort to a shrug to communicate their lack of concern for what the other had said, Mark had mastered the way to communicate using his eyes so all he did was look at Jackson and Jackson knew what the prince was thinking. Perhaps it was also the slightly raised ‘who are you to question me’ eyebrow that made Jackson bite back a sigh of frustration. “Your royal highness,” Jackson tried again, willing his voice to calm down and not sound so accusatory but really, the prince was really trying his nerves at that point, “you’re meant to be in disguise. This,” Jackson said, gesturing to the sheen of velvet of Mark’s surcoat that showed off the finely woven linen of his undershirt, “is not a disguise.”

Again, Mark gave Jackson that quelling look. “I have nothing else,” he commented, the natural aloofness in his tone was there in spite of the fact that Mark was really stating the obvious. These were the oldest, most threadbare clothes he had. These were clothes that he would never wear to court or even as daily attire around the castle. Besides, the only alternative was to borrow clothes and since this was meant to be kept a secret, he could not ask anyone. The only person who knew he was leaving the castle that night was Jackson and for some reason that Mark did not want to explore, he did not feel comfortable wearing Jackson’s clothes. Jackson clenched his teeth in response. He had had an inkling that the prince was going to difficult and though he had been right, he wasn’t even remotely gratified.

“Just,” said Jackson, “just keep this on at all times.” He handed the prince his spare cloak that he had brought along just in case the prince needed something extra. The cloak wasn’t new or spotless but at least it was clean. Jackson hoped that if at least people didn’t catch sight of the expensive garments the prince wore and with the hood over Mark’s fair hair that had been tucked under a hat, the prince wouldn’t draw unwanted attention. Giving a quick nod of approval, because the cloak did manage to mask most of Mark’s form, Jackson sighed and took a step back. Sinking into a half-bow, the squire put forth a request to the prince.

“Your royal highness,” said Jackson with no hint of jest, eyes directed at the floor where Mark stood as manners required of his social class, “please allow me to stay by your side the entire time we’re at the fair.” After a slight hesitation, Jackson added in a smaller voice, afraid that he was asking too much, “Please allow me to protect you.”

If Mark had been affected by Jackson’s sudden formality, he gave no indication of it. “Very well,” was Mark’s answer but in truth, Jackson’s request had made Mark want to smile at his evident earnestness. The possibility of slipping away from Jacksons’ side had not occurred to him in the slightest so he was tickled that Jackson saw it fit to even ask. Jackson’s second request, however, sank into Mark’s consciousness like a drop of warm, liquid nectar that tasted sweet in its very simplicity.

“Thank you, your royal highness,” replied Jackson solemnly before he stood up again. The formality over and done with, Jackson broke into a playful smile, his excitable nature rising to the surface. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Earlier that day, Mark had managed to ‘accidentally’ cross Jackson’s path that he knew the squire took to go to and fro between the training grounds and where Jackson stayed in the barracks with the others of his group. It was a path that included a sheltered courtyard home to a few shrubs and trees which conveniently lay on the border between the squire’s quarters and the rest of the castle. In other words, it might still be a little surprising for the prince to be there but it wouldn’t raise any suspicions which was perfect for Mark’s purposes. He hadn’t seen the squire in a while and though Jackson still came to watch Johan fly, the squire often arrived just as the hawk’s training began and only to scuttle off immediately afterwards, not forgetting to thank Mark each time. Obviously, social decorum and routine dictated that the prince and the squire would rarely have chances to meet but there were often times that Mark used to be able to at least catch sight of Jackson on the grounds. Sometimes the raven-haired lad could be seen jostling with his friends, other times Mark could hear Jackson’s distinctive laugh echo along the corridors of the castle so there were indications of Jackson being around. But lately, there had been no sign for weeks. It unsettled him for some reason. 

Yugyeom noticed the subtle changes of course, but made no comment because he was sure he just didn’t understand the prince. If it had been any other individual, Yugyeom would have laughed and concluded that that person was pining. Surely, the prince wasn’t. Couldn’t. Impossible. There had to be another reason and Yugyeom would rather keep his mouth shut than risk being punished. 

When Jackson finally rounded the corner into the courtyard, Mark stood up from the carved stone bench upon which he had been sitting, closing the book he had brought along to occupy himself while he had waited. The slight upswing Mark had felt the moment he heard Jackson, however, dropped when he realised that Jackson had his arm slung around the shoulders of another boy, and, Mark noticed, the other also had his arm slung around Jackson’s shoulders. They were obviously engaged in a humorous conversation judging from their animated faces. Jackson’s smile looked so open, so unguarded that Mark couldn’t help but wonder when or if Jackson had ever smiled like that at him. The drop in his mood brought with it a heightened haughty demeanour, a demeanour that just waited to prick Jackson like a thorn. 

Unknown to Mark, Jackson had been training hard every moment he could spare ever since the Captain had announced that they’d be selecting a squire to join Mark’s personal guard. It was what Jackson had always wanted to do – to protect Mark. Finally, the chance to do so had come. It was going to be difficult to get chosen because there were many others who wanted the same position, all of them fit and able and willing though, perhaps, each for different reasons. Some saw it as a way to rise in ranks, others saw it as a chance to gain some political favour. Jackson, on the other hand, just wanted to protect Mark. It was for that simple reason he had chosen to train as a squire in hopes of one day becoming a knight to serve in the prince’s honour. Not knowing when another chance like this would come again, Jackson threw his heart, body, mind and soul into his training. He had to be the best and was determined to make the choice a fair one as Jackson half suspected that if he were chosen, rumours would fly about how he had an upper hand because the prince himself seemed to favour him. To shut those gossipy slanderous tongues, Jackson worked on improving every skill for the three tests the Captain had set. 

The three tests mirrored the ones used for knighthood tournaments which included archery, horseback riding and hand to hand combat with their weapons of choice. Jackson had done well enough in the first two tests, coming in second for archery and first for horseback riding. The last test which was to take place in a couple of days time was the hand to hand combat for which Jackson had opted for a sword and shield. It was the test that Jackson had been least worried about for he knew that Nicholas, his closest rival, still had yet to best him in swordplay. But Jackson was not one to be complacent and still trained as much as he could without wearing himself down completely. He had to be in his best form and though the selection had yet to be made, the Captain had already given vague hints by way of nods that there was high probability that Jackson would be chosen. So it was with a light heart that he slung his arm around Nicholas and teased him about being selected for the King’s guard instead of the prince. The jovial mood coincided with a decision to head into town that evening to watch a visiting troop perform and basically, let their hair down after tense weeks of training and competition. It was in this mood that Jackson suddenly found himself in Mark’s presence. 

Dropping their arms from each other’s shoulders, Jackson and Nicholas bowed hastily in respect, all conversation and jibes cut short as they then stood at attention. They had to wait either to be dismissed or ignored. One or the other. 

Turns out, Mark merely signalled to Yugyeom and the page went over to Jackson. “His royal highness would like to have a word.”

Jackson listened, eyes slightly wide because this was unexpected. He clicked his heels together, dipped his head in a bow and followed after Yugyeom. Nicholas realised he was dismissed so with a bow of his own, he left the courtyard. He was curious why the prince wanted to speak to Jackson but at the same time, he valued his life too much to snoop. So off Nicholas went to the barracks leaving Jackson to fend for himself because even if Nicholas hadn’t seen the prince much, he could tell that the prince wasn’t exactly happy at that moment.

“Your royal highness,” said Jackson in greeting, bowing his head again. Without a word, Mark turned and started walking which meant that Yugyeom and Jackson just followed after the prince, not knowing where they were heading. Jackson nudged Yugyeom a couple of times, silently asking what was going on because there was an added force in Mark’s usual stride. All Yugyeom could do was shake his head and shrug. He had no idea what was happening and even less of what was going to happen. They kept walking, footsteps echoing along corridors and hallways until they reached Mark’s study. With a flick of his eyes, the prince indicated that Yugyeom stay outside and guard the door because Mark didn’t want to be interrupted. 

Yugyeom stood aside and Mark left the door open for Jackson to enter which Jackson only did after gulping and shooting an anxious look at Yugyeom, asking the pageboy to save him from the unknown. All Yugyeom could do was to give him a sympathetic look. There was no escaping so Jackson entered the room, shutting the door behind him and then stood at attention, eyes focused on the tapestry right behind the prince’s head instead of on the prince himself who had sat down on a cushioned chair placed around a large table that held a scattering of books, manuscripts, quills and ink. Jackson had to consciously stop himself from gulping because he had never been in a situation like this before, well, at least, not one where Mark had sought him out and then wanted to ‘have a word’ in private. 

Mark allowed the silence to drag on until he could see Jackson anxiously shifting his weight from one leg to the next. It was exactly what Mark wanted. He wanted to see Jackson unsettled to suffer for the irritable mood the squire had put him through. 

Deciding to end the silence only when Jackson’s eyes flickered to his face, Mark asked in a slow contemplative murmur, “What have you been preoccupied with these days?”

Jackson’s eyes snapped back to the tapestry behind the prince’s head. “Training, your royal highness,” Jackson answered in a clipped voice a squire would use in an interrogation by his master. 

“Hmm,” hummed Mark, who idly picked up a quill to study the pattern that adorned the feather, “for?”

“The selection of the royal guard, your royal highness,” came Jackson’s abrupt answer, still in the clipped voice he had used earlier. Every nerve of his body was tensed while his mind worked desperately to understand the situation he was in. What did the prince want? Why was he brought to the prince’s private study? At any other time, Jackson would have welcomed the chance to explore Mark’s study given the opportunity but not right then, not when Mark seemed angry.

“Selection?” repeated Mark, the inflection indicating that it was a command to explain. 

“Yes, your royal highness. In three days, the Captain will select a squire to join your royal guard, your royal highness. There are three tests, two of them are over and there’s another in two days. It was archery and horseback riding and now it’s hand to hand combat. I wasn’t very good at the first two so I had to make more effort to improve my skills, your royal highness. The outcome seems promising although I did miss my target in archery. It was the wind, your royal highness, it picked up with a sudden gust that blew my arrow-” 

Mark raised a hand to cut short Jackson’s answer that was beginning to ramble, no doubt because Jackson was nervous. Mark could see it in the increased agitated movements of Jackson’s hands and eyes coupled with the constant repetition of ‘your royal highness’ as he tried to explain not really knowing what it was that Mark wanted to hear. 

“My royal guard?” asked Mark.

“Your royal guard, your highness,” quipped Jackson.

Mark pondered for a moment. He had heard of a guard who was leaving but hadn’t given it much thought. Matters like that had never concerned him before because they were just individuals who were assigned to his service. The individuals changed, rotated and he had never seen them as more than just faces. Yet here Jackson was, telling him that he had spent every waking moment trying to join his royal guard. That was the reason why Jackson had disappeared, that was the reason why Mark had not seen him in the halls, that was the reason for the squire’s firmer built and the fading bruises Mark could trace on the lad’s jaw. It was a new idea to consider and to be certain, Mark asked cautiously, “You trained because you hoped to be selected?” 

A look of confusion clouded Jackson’s eyes as he pulled his gaze from the tapestry only to meet the prince’s stoic face for a moment before focusing on the carpet at his feet. “Yes, your royal highness,” answered Jackson with noticeably less spirit because Mark’s question and tone seemed to indicate that Jackson was not wanted in his service. He had intentionally not told the prince because he had wanted it to be a surprise. He had wanted to be selected and then appear before Mark in the uniform of the prince’s royal guard, a beautiful deep blue ribbon sewn to the sleeve of the otherwise standard tunic. He had imagined how Mark’s face would light up and perhaps, perhaps Jackson would even be rewarded with a smile. That smile would be worth all the toil but here in harsh reality, it went nothing like what he had dared to dream. _Foolish, foolish lowly servant_ , Jackson chided himself.

Mark noticed the change in Jackson’s countenance and spoke in order to break into whatever thoughts that seemed to have saddened the squire. “You should have told me. I could have given the command,” Mark said, cutting off the word _easily_ that he almost tagged on. It would not do to belittle how much effort Jackson had put in and it was certainly improper to lord how much power and authority he had over others.

Jackson’s eyes flickered upwards. He bit his lower lip, before reluctantly replying, “I… I wanted to earn that place.” That place of honour to stand behind the prince, that place that was coveted by many. 

Not for the first time Mark realised how much pride and dignity Jackson held within his character. Never had Jackson been one to take the easy route for Mark knew that many others who had been in Jackson’s position would have asked for favours from the prince and yet, never once did Jackson ask, imply or hint at anything of the sort. That was another reason why Jackson was different, why Mark sought to maintain that connection with Jackson. And to think all this time he had been indignant because it had seemed like Jackson had been avoiding him only now to be told that Jackson was doing everything in his power to seize the opportunity to be closer to Mark’s presence. It was… heartwarming. 

“I see,” Mark replied with a small nod and certainly in a lighter voice more like the banter they usually shared. “Then I wish you the very best in your efforts.” Jackson registered the change in tone and dared to pick up his chin, to smile albeit hesitantly because he still did not know why Mark had dragged him to his study. 

“Thank you, your royal highness.”

“Now then,” said Mark, leaning back against the chair so his posture was more relaxed. Seeing Mark release the tension in his body made Jackson feel less on tenterhooks but still cautious. “As there is only one more test, you shall accompany me to do some birdwatching tonight.”

Jackson could not help but blink. It wasn’t that Jackson was surprised at Mark’s suggestion. They had gone birdwatching at night before because it was the only time to see nocturnal birds like the owl or to catch the song of the nightingale. It was the suddenness of it all especially in the switch of the prince’s mood. The real problem was that this time, Jackson could not say yes.

“I-I’m sorry, your royal highness. I’m afraid I cannot accompany you tonight,” Jackson cursed the timing. He would have loved to spend time with the prince and during these nocturnal birdwatching sessions, it was almost exclusively a time shared between the prince and himself. Yugyeom came along, of course, but he would mostly be dozing while the prince and Jackson would listen for the rustle of wings or call of birds. 

It was Mark’s turn to blink but it was soon accompanied with a slight frown. “Why?” Mark not used to Jackson saying no. The first time Jackson had said no was when Mark was eight and at that time, Jackson didn’t even know he was the prince. Ever since then, Mark was fairly certain that Jackson never refused any of his requests.

Clearing his throat, Jackson explained, “A group of us are going to the fair tonight, your royal highness. It’s the last night the travelling troop is in the kingdom and we’d been occupied with training so we decided to go this evening.”

Mark drummed his long, slender fingers on the arm rest of his chair. A night out with the other knights in training? No doubt that other one, the one Jackson had his arm around earlier would be going too. Allowing impulse to dominate for once, Mark announced, “No matter. I’ll go to the fair as well.”

To say that Jackson was shocked would oversimplify the sudden rush of worry, anxiety, disbelief and excitement he felt as the prince’s statement. “B-but your royal highness, you can’t. His majesty the king would not agree. It’s too-”

At this, Mark stood up, a mischievous gleam appeared in his eyes, not unlike the time when he had jumped out of his study’s window as a boy. “I know full well my father will not agree. That is why I shall not be asking permission.”

“But, your royal highness, you don’t have to go and see the troop. Just ask them and they’d be more than honoured to be invited so-”

Mark held up his hand in a gesture Jackson was beginning to see too often. “I am going,” stated Mark, “in disguise.”

Jackson could hear the anticipation in the prince’s voice and though the part of him that wanted to spend time with the prince was rejoicing at the fun they could have outside the inner walls of the castle, the more responsible part of him knew this was too big a risk. Mark was the prince, extremely important to the kingdom. If anything should befall him… 

“Your royal highness, please reconsider-”

“Jackson,” Mark said with finality, “I am going, irrespective of your opinion.” The impromptu plan, made even more exciting because it was created in the spur of the moment, had taken hold of Mark. He rarely did anything reckless and what was born as a desire to monopolize Jackson’s time had fired up his imagination. He had never experienced a town fair. What would the atmosphere be like? What would happen? Will everyone be enjoying themselves? Will everyone be singing perhaps bawdy songs, shouting the vulgar lyrics to the night air? He wanted to see all that. After all, if he were to govern the people, he should know what they’re like. 

The squire was at a loss. The prince seemed determined and in truth, Jackson could not object to the prince’s wishes. And if the prince were to go, he’d have to be protected because Jackson was quite certain that Mark had no idea what life was like outside the castle walls. 

“Your royal highness, if-” Jackson started to say before Mark gave him a cutting look. “ _Since_ you are going, please allow me to accompany you.” Mark nodded in agreement, especially because he’d not have it any other way.

* * *

“Your royal-”

“Hush!” Mark hissed, clamping a hand over Jackson’s mouth before pulling him behind a stack of barrels as they navigated the town’s many narrow streets. “Stop calling me that,” Mark whispered, standing in very close proximity to Jackson. If anyone heard it, it’ll be nothing less than blowing a trumpet to get everyone’s attention.

Frowning, Jackson grasped the prince’s hand to pull it away from his mouth. “What should I call you then?” he half-demanded with a pout of his lower lip that Mark did not fail to notice, not when Jackson’s face was so close. The prince had been quite trying in the time they had escaped the castle and made their way to where the travelling troop had set up a stage. Mark was distracted very easily, once by an old lady selling delicious looking loaves of bread and another by a group of young men who were busy placing bets on which of three cups held a bead after being shuffled. Jackson felt like he was minding an inquisitive child of ten but then realised that in many ways, Mark was inexperienced with the way of life outside the castle. Knowledge, ideas and history he had aplenty but what was common to townsfolk was exotic to Mark. The isolation had just been part and parcel of his upbringing and though it sometimes irritated him, Jackson did find himself marvelling at the way Mark’s eyes grew livelier whenever he discovered something new. 

“Just call me Mark,” the prince said boldly but the squire could only gasp, press his lips together and shake his head anxiously in reply. No one addressed the prince by his first name except for fellow royalty. It was against the every social law and earned anyone who dared try such foolish impudence a day in the stocks. Even if there was no punishment, Jackson could not bring himself to do so. It would be too, for lack of a better word, intimate, for being on a first name basis with the prince meant that one could overlook his social status and stand as equals. To the squire, the very thought of addressing the prince as Mark was too large a responsibility – one that he did not think he was ready to shoulder. 

Seeing Jackson’s absolute refusal, Mark thought for a moment after putting aside his disappointment when Jackson didn’t want to address him by his name. Until he had asked, the prince had no idea he had wanted to know how his name would sound like in Jackson’s voice. Would Jackson call to him as excitedly as he had greeted Nicholas just now while Mark pulled the hood of his cloak lower to hide himself? Would there be a lilt in Jackson’s voice? Or if Jackson were angry, how would Mark’s name sound on his lips? Needless to say, Mark was curious and now it seemed he would never find out. 

“Hmm… then call me Ian.”

“Ian?” 

“Ian,” Mark repeated. 

“Alright then, Ian,” Jackson grinned before gently taking hold of the prince’s wrist. “Come on!” clearly excited because the night had just begun. They arrived at the stage where the troop was currently putting on a juggling act but juggling with plates, pots, pans and cups to the oohs and aahs of the crowd. Then it was a juggling act of daggers which had the crowd watching in fearful fascination until the performer caught all three daggers in one hand and ended his performance with a deep bow. 

“Bravo! Bravo!” the crowd yelled, before filling the air with claps and roars of approval. Both Mark and Jackson had lifted their hands to clap only to realise that Jackson had still been holding Mark’s wrist. A little startled, Jackson drew his hand away with an apologetic and sheepish smile to turn his attention back to the performer who was enjoying the applause by bowing again and again. Jackson found it was surprisingly comfortable to act like this with the prince outside the inner castle. The lack of high ceilings and stone walls made it easy to see the prince as, if Jackson would hazard the word, a friend just as he would have held Nicholas’ wrist. Or would he? Mark followed suit in clapping, his wrist suddenly missing Jackson’s warm and gentle grasp but thought it wise not to ask or initiate such contact. When the performer left, the crowd dispersed.

“Ahem,” Jackson cleared his throat, “so, Ian, what would you like to do next?”

“What does one usually do?”

“Drink I guess.”

“Then lead the way,” the prince said with a smile.

“You sure, your-Ian?” Jackson was only beginning to get used to this. “The beer here is quite different from the one you’re used to. Less… refined.”

“Lead the way, Jackson,” a note of Mark’s usual commanding stance appearing again. 

“If you wish,” replied Jackson, walking towards the tavern he usually frequented for beer, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Jackson got the prince a pint of beer and they sat at a quieter corner of the tavern. Groups of men were drinking, giving random toasts to strangers and yes, as Mark had expected, belting out song after song. Mark just watched, taking in the free manner in which the people interacted. It was not altogether different from the royal banquets they had in the castle although as Jackson had warned him, the quality of the droughts left much to be desired. Still, the merriment was familiar but amplified.

Catching Mark’s curious gaze, Jackson explained, “It’s one of the few days they can rest. These same men will be up before sunrise to tend their fields and lifestock. They work day after day to feed themselves and their families so times when they can forget surviving every day are rare. They just make the most of it.”

Mark nodded as Jackson fell into a contemplative silence. There were sides to Jackson that Mark realised he had never seen. Such as this one, the quiet, thoughtful observant Jackson. For a few moments, Mark caught himself staring at Jackson’s features as the squire swirled what was left of his beer in his tankard. He seemed deep in contemplation which made the prince hope that Jackson didn’t notice he had been basically tracing the outlines of Jackson’s face. The prince tried to drink more of his beer as a way to change his state of mind but couldn’t manage beyond a couple of mouthfuls at a go. Coughing a little as the liquid burned down his throat, he felt Jackson thump him on his back. 

“Ready to go, Ian?”

Mark nodded. He stood up, careful to pull the cloak around him and waited for Jackson to yell his goodbyes to those he knew by name. “To King Raymond!” cheered one of the farmers and there was an answering toast by all in the tavern. Jackson had joined in and as he took Mark’s wrist, he noticed the slightly awestruck look on the prince’s face.

“What?”

“They… cheered for my father?” 

“Yeah, they do it all the time.”

“But why? They don’t know him, I don’t think they’ve even seen him.”

Jackson chuckled. “It’s because your father is a good king. His reign is peaceful and that’s all we can wish for really. Come on, we’ve got to get back.” He tugged lightly on the prince’s wrist and started making their way back towards the inner castle walls which left Mark with his thoughts. A visit to the town had revealed to him an aspect of kingship that he had been taught about but, he realised now, he hadn’t really understood. All these people, in the town and he knew there were many villagers beyond as well, all these people depended on his father keeping peace in the land. So many men, women and children relied on the one who wore the crown to rule with wisdom. All of a sudden, Mark started to feel intimidated by the faces he saw as he followed Jackson’s footsteps. He wondered if he would be a good king. 

“Jackson, do you-”

Screams and angry yells rang through the air. A ripple of tension ran through Jackson’s veins like quickfire as he gave a firm tug on Mark’s wrist in order to pull him closer. Latching on to the prince’s arm, Jackson said into Mark’s ear, “Stay with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how do you like it so far?
> 
> and yes, i used a weak cop out because Mark could have suggested "Yien" which i did want to put in but it seemed out of place so i changed it to Ian which is the closest sounding familiar name for the context. 
> 
> my plans for this chapter are not done yet but because of the length i decided to split it. :)


	3. To protect p.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark witnesses violence for the first time in his life and is aghast at what befalls Jackson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm changing the rating from general because it seems i'm describing quite a bit of violence and pain? not sure how ratings work on Ao3 but just to be safe. :)

The once merry atmosphere of the town fair had disintegrated into chaos as people started running in all directions which made it difficult to discern the source of the trouble. Jackson had tried to ask some who were running past what it was they were fleeing from but no one really gave him any answers apart from pushing him aside until he heard one particularly loud shout of warning that rang above the din – “BANDITS!”

Jackson tightened his grip on the prince’s arm and turned on his heel in the opposite direction from where the scream came from. “Hurry, your highness,” Jackson urged, pulling Mark forcefully along with him. Stumbling, Mark winched at the iron hold Jackson had on his arm but he did not object, not when he knew that they were in danger here. They had to get back to the inner castle. Dodging through the crowd of people scurrying like lost sheep without any particular sense of destination except with the sole intent to escape, Jackson kept an eye on their backs as he quickly combed through the mental map of the town he had in his memory. It won’t do to keep running like this. He had to get the prince to safety and safety meant back to the castle. Realising they were heading towards the farming fields, Jackson tugged Mark into a different direction. The street here was less crowded but still as chaotic. Doors were slamming shut, windows drawn to a close and entrances blocked in the occupants’ efforts to protect themselves against raiders.

Finally, a few more turns and the straight cobbled street that led up to the inner castle would be in sight. Just a little more, thought Jackson to himself as he checked to see that the prince was keeping up with him. Not for the first time that night, Jackson was cursing himself for allowing Mark to come to the fair. He should have done the responsible thing. He should have gone to the king or the king’s advisor. They would have been able to stop Mark. Instead, Jackson had given in to his selfishness because he had wanted to spend time with the prince and, Jackson’s guilt increased ten-fold, Jackson simply hadn’t wanted to risk the prince being upset at him. Jackson knew that if he had told of the prince’s plan, Mark would be angry, perhaps so angry to the extent that all ties would be cut. So instead of risking that, Jackson had put his own desires first. In doing so, he had failed his ultimate purpose which was to protect the prince. Jackson shook his head to clear it of such depressing thoughts. Now wasn’t the time. Mark was his foremost priority. 

They turned a corner and Jackson’s heart sank as he saw a group of three to four ruffians blocking the closest alley to the inner castle. Still, the prince and him weren’t trapped. They could just run straight and use the next turning. Jackson was about to do just that when he caught sight of what the men were doing. One of them had the hair of a crying girl in his fists, tears streaming down her face. She was clearly terrified. Jackson’s feet halted on their own accord as anger took root. How dare they touch a maiden like that? He had to stop them but at the same time, he had to get Mark to safety. Torn, he glanced from the prince to the girl and back to the prince who by now had realised why Jackson had stopped running. Mark could see the mental struggle in Jackson’s eyes and knew that if Jackson turned his back on this, the squire would never forgive himself. So Mark decided for Jackson. 

“Go,” said the prince. 

Relief and gratitude flashed upon Jackson’s face. He hustled Mark to the closest hiding place behind a tall stack of barrels and applied slight pressure on the prince’s shoulder to indicate that he should hunch down. “Stay hidden. I’ll be back.” Mark nodded and in the next instant, Jackson charged at the group of men, shouting that they stop what they were doing.

“Release her!” Jackson demanded, positioning himself closest to the ruffian who had a hold of the girl.

The men laughed jeeringly at the brazen interruption. “Or what, shrimp? Goin te’ kick us in our shins?” Another quipped, “Go home to mother, kid, if ye know whats good for ya.”

“I said, let her go,” demanded Jackson again, tensing his muscles to strike or react, depending on which came first. 

At this, the girl whimpered, “S-save me,” but it only caused the ruffian holding her to yank her hair even harder, eliciting a horrified yelp that made Jackson’s anger burn even more.

“Aw, come on girlie, we said we’d show ye a good-” but the man could not finish his words as Jackson’s leaping kick landed right in the centre of his gut. Doubled over, the man’s grip on the girl loosened enough for Jackson to pull her behind him. 

As the man coughed to regain his breath, the others had stopped laughing as their faces slowly filled with anger. “Ye’ll pay for that,” one threatened while another cracked his knuckles. 

Jackson was no fool to try to take on three men while trying to protect a girl at the same time. “Run,” he murmured to her though his eyes did not leave the three who were advancing on him. 

“Thank you,” came a rushed whisper and the Jackson felt the draft of air that indicated the girl had taken to her heels. He lowered his stance, feet shuffling to get a firm foothold. He wasn’t one of the best in hand to hand combat for nothing but still, what would he have given for his sword and shield. All he had were his bare hands when he saw the flash of dull metal illuminated by torches. They had daggers.

One man lunged first which Jackson sidestepped easily but swung his knee out to catch the man’s on his forearm as Jackson grabbed the man’s wrist. A sharp jerk and the dagger fell from the man’s hand. Picking it up, Jackson twirled it in his palm, positioning the blade so that the hilt was grasped between his thumb and forefingers. It was a grip designed to slice rather than stab. Sinking again into a lower position, he waited for the next move. The men were clearly untrained fighters used only to brute force so Jackson’s agility and training soon allowed him to overpower another. There were two left, one looking a bit hesitant when he saw his comrade bleeding and winded on the ground but the other looked enraged. Jackson thought he had done enough, however, because winning this fight had never been his priority. He had wanted to save the girl and that was done. Now to get the prince back to the castle. 

Jackson turned to head towards the alley where Mark was but saw a sight that made his blood run cold. They had Mark! Cleary the three men he had been fighting were not the only ones in their groups and now two of them held Mark in their hands as they advanced towards where two of their men lay unconscious. 

“LET HIM GO!” screamed Jackson, lunging like a wild animal towards the two who dared to lay their filthy hands on the prince.

“Ah ah ah ~ ” sang one of them, waving an insolent finger at Jackson while the other leered as he slid a dagger up towards Mark’s throat. 

Mark hadn’t noticed the two men creeping towards him in the shadows. He had remained hidden but the grunts and thuds were too much for his curiosity. He wanted to see what was going on and peeping out from behind the barrels, he watched as Jackson fought, seeming to effortlessly take down two men in quick succession. Then the girl ran for her life but before Mark could feel any relief, a rough foul smelling hand had clamped itself on his mouth. The stench of the man almost caused him to gag as he was wrestled into full view of the man’s companions and Jackson. Mark saw the horror in Jackson’s face and though Mark was trying hard to keep calm, he was inwardly yelling for Jackson to remove him from their grasp.

Jackson froze, his eyes locked on the prince who seemed to be unbelievably composed. Even with a blade to his throat, the prince never uttered a scream of showed any sign of weakness but Jackson guessed and knew he was probably right in thinking that the prince must be frightened. Nothing remotely of this sort had ever befallen Mark and cursed be the stars that this should happen. The squire knew he could not launch an attack, he couldn’t risk the blade moving anywhere closer to Mark’s person. So he waited for an opening and if one didn’t present itself soon, he’ll create that distraction.

“Oi, Ollie!” yelled one of the guys, mockingly stepping around Jackson who did not react to the man’s antics, “we’ve got ourselves a rich one! Clothes alone’ll be enough for ye numbskull to drink yerself stupid.” 

Jackson gritted his teeth. They not only had Mark captured, they noticed he was rich and with these lawless cads, there was no telling what they might do next. He had to get to Mark. Jackson did a quick evaluation of the situation. Six men. Two down and out. Three seemingly under the impression that Jackson wouldn’t fight back and one more, the one who held Mark captive. 

Just as Jackson was trying to decide what to do, the man trailed his finger along Mark’s jaw, causing Mark to take a sharp intake of foul air as the man chuckled. “Ye have nice skin,” the ruffian drawled, tongue flicking out to lick his ugly foul lips. All thoughts and hesitation disappeared from Jackson’s mind when he saw the man touch Mark. All the squire’s anxiety and worry replaced instantly by white hot fury that brought with it an intensely calm but grim determination. What had been clouded with uncertainty was now unquestionable.

The man must be punished.

Unheeding the three behind him, Jackson threw his dagger at the vile villain who had touched the prince, causing the man to startle for the blade had missed his face by a couple of inches, lodging itself into the body of the barrel next to him instead with quivering intensity. The next thing the man registered was a twist of his own wrist as it was gripped mercilessly and yanked up and away from his body which resulted in both the release of his captive and the loss of the dagger he had been holding. The next thing he knew was that he was tossed unto the ground with a knee digging into his back. His arms scrambled to push himself up but a hand yanked  
back roughly on his hair to bare the man’s throat while the blade he had held earlier pierced its owner’s skin ever so slightly, causing a drop of blood to form.

“How dare you,” a voice hissed above him. It was a voice that curdled his blood and struck him with fear. It was a controlled merciless voice, unfeeling, angry and even inhuman. “How dare you even touch him?” The blade moved ever so slightly, slicing the tiny gash longer. 

“H-help,” the man choked out as he saw his three companions beginning to move towards him. 

“Your friends want to have some fun as well it seems,” Jackson hissed, his gaze locked on the other three who began charging at him with a roar. “So you’ll have to wait your turn,” added Jackson with a drawl. Without another word, Jackson stabbed the man in both his thighs to immobilize him. Leaving the man now screaming in agony, Jackson faced the three attackers. He moved like a man possessed. The squire avoided every attack, every lunge, every kick but landed most of his own. He had them writhing on the ground and even begging for mercy before a voice broke through the shell of anger that had encased his mind. 

“Jackson!” cried Mark, half-bewildered and scared as he tried to make sense of the scene before him, trying to block his ears from the painful groans of the man on the ground near the barrels.

The squire, who was just about to plunge a dagger into one of the villain’s chests, looked up and caught the prince’s frightened eyes. The shock of seeing the expression on Mark’s face halted the unbridled fury that Jackson had let overwhelm him and jolted Jackson back into his senses. Mark was still here. Mark was in danger. Sounds started coming from behind them and Jackson’s eyes followed the direction of Mark’s to see shadows approaching. There were more bandits. Without wasting another moment, Jackson kicked the man in the gut and leaped over the unconscious bodies of the other two. Reaching Mark, Jackson hesitated for a moment because Mark had visibly pulled away from his touch. Even if it was just a fraction, Jackson felt it magnified and it hurt that Mark was now afraid of him. Of course the prince would be. Jackson had let his rage dictate his actions, hurting their attackers more than was necessary, to inflict unbearable pain out of vengeance for having dared to toy with the prince’s being. He had acted like a beast. Of course Mark would be afraid of him. Jackson’s heart sank with a heavy weight. Mark should never have had to witness such violence or see Jackson at his worst.

Gulping, he forced himself to gently take hold of Mark’s wrist, not wanting to frighten the prince even more. Only then did he notice that the prince was hurt. There was a gash in Mark’s upper left arm where the villain’s blade that Jackson had thoughtlessly yanked away before had unknowingly slashed through the fabric of the cloak and tunic to reach flesh. Bile rose in Jackson’s throat. He had caused the prince bodily harm. “Your highness, I’m so sorry,” murmured Jackson, brows furrowed and guilt etched on every inch of the squire’s face.

Mark, on the other hand, was more than relieved to see the Jackson he knew return. For a while, it seemed he had lost Jackson and in place of the bright eyed boy with an infectious laugh, there had been an unfeeling agile being brimming with murderous intent. This guilt-ridden sensitive face was the Jackson he knew, this was the Jackson he treasured. Mark pulled his wrist away from Jackson’s hand which caused Jackson’s face to scrunch in regret but before Jackson could indulge in a continued misinterpretation of Mark’s actions, the prince slipped his hand into the squire’s, squeezing it tightly before holding Jackson’s hand in a firm grasp. 

“Your high-” gasped Jackson in wide-eyed surprise.

“Let’s go,” said Mark as the sounds behind them increased. Jackson nodded and off they sprinted towards the direction of the castle gates. They encountered more ruffians along the way though the largest group was behind them. They had seen the hurt Jackson had dealt to their group and were intent on hunting Jackson down but this time, Jackson made sure to keep going. The one or two who intercepted them were dealt with swiftly so that they did not have to linger. Jackson was determined that not a single one of them would have the chance to even touch even a strand of hair on Mark’s head which meant that he bodily shielded Mark from any advances resulting in him taking gashes and bruises to his own body but it mattered not. He had to protect Mark.

Rounding the final corner, they were greeted with a large-scale skirmish between ruffians and the castle guards. A quick glance told Jackson that the guards were in the midst of rounding the intruders up while the ruffians tried to resist. Catching a glimpse of his Captain, he breathed a sigh of relief because Captain Paul would be sure to get the prince to the castle. 

“Captain!” yelled Jackson, pulling Mark with him. “His royal-”

But Jackson did not have to say anymore. Comprehension dawned on the Captain when he recognised the prince but hardened when he saw the prince was hurt. “You two, to the castle!” he ordered as two of the knights nearby bowed in haste before rushing the prince away up the castle ramp. 

“Your conduct has to be accounted for, Jackson,” the Captain said, unable to keep his tone neutral.

“Yes, Captain,” was Jackson’s answer for he knew he deserved to be punished. He tried not to think about it as he assisted in rounding up the last of the ruffians, especially pointing out the one who had dared to touch Mark. That particular villain had fainted from loss of blood and Jackson’s conscience pricked him to no end. How could he have lost such control? How could he have been so cruel? They marched the captives to the prisons and with a last command that Jackson be ready to be called in front of the Captain and knights tomorrow, the day was finally over.

 

* * *

 

Mark was confined to his bed chamber. As much as he protested that it was really just a shallow cut on his arm, his father the King had reacted as if Mark had been on the brink of death. So Mark had to endure lecture after lecture about his responsibility to care for his wellbeing, how important it was for the future of the kingdom that Mark be in good health, how vital it was for the stability of the entire region. Though his father and advisors were over-reacting, Mark knew he had behaved recklessly and thus, did somewhat deserve the lectures thrown at him from all parties. When he wasn’t having his ears chewed off, however, his thoughts often wandered back to that night at the fair. Two days had passed since he had experienced both freedom and the most frightful moments of his young life thus far. He remembered the music, the singing, the laughter and Jackson’s beaming smiles. Yet, in his dreams, Mark shivered when he remembered the blood, groans and flashes of blades as they glinted dully in the light of torches. He especially remembered Jackson facing off against three men and how animalistic his movements had been. Though such thoughts made him shiver, he would then remember the feel of Jackson’s hand as he held it, the rough, worn and calloused hands of the squire who had trained as hard as he could in order to do what he essentially succeeded in doing that night – to protect Mark. 

Two days since… there was something happening today though. What was it? Flipping idly through the pages of a book, Mark tried to recall what it was that he had forgotten. Looking up at his window, he caught sight of a bird flying across the clear blue sky and then he remembered – it was the day of the last test to select his royal guard! Jackson had been extremely excited about it and Mark himself found that he was looking forward to the squire being more present in Mark’s immediate vicinity. Jackson had been fairly confident he would be chosen and though he had suffered some scrapes and bruises at the hands of the bandits that night, surely he could still win the competition. After all, if he could fight like he did without his sword and shield, he should surely be even more formidable when he wielded his weapons of choice. 

“Yugyeom,” called Mark and his page stepped into the room.

“Your royal highness,” wished Yugyeom in a bow. 

“Go and watch the trials at the knight’s training ground. Let me know what happens,” Mark instructed but Yugyeom knew enough to infer that the prince meant for him to report on Jackson’s progress. 

“Yes, your royal highness.” 

Then all Mark could do was wait. The sun was setting soon and Yugyeom had not returned. Heavens, how long were these competitions? Surely the squires weren’t meant to spar the entire day. Mark was beginning to fidget in his chair by the window which unfortunately did not offer him any view of the training grounds. He wondered if it would be too much of a hassle to request a change to another room in the castle. After all, the castle was vast and had many unoccupied chambers. The drumming of his fingers grew more and more impatient until he was extremely tempted to end his curfew on his own accord. The physicians had advised one day of rest in bed, his father had made it three. It was soon sundown meaning the second day would be over so one day less would not hurt anyone, least of all Mark. Tired of waiting, Mark stood up to head towards his dresser that held his clothes. He’d go and find out himself. 

Just then, there was a knock on his door and Mark gave permission to enter. Yugyeom slipped in with his head oddly bowed because he didn’t want to face the prince. Yugyeom’s behaviour raised Mark’s suspicions. Something was wrong.

“Well?” asked Mark.

“Your royal highness,” said Yugyeom, eyes flickered upwards only for a moment, “the victor was Nicholas.”

“Nicholas?”

“Yes, your royal highness.”

“What of Jackson? How did he fare?” Had Jackson been injured that badly? He had seemed alright and even as Mark had left the crowd with two knights, Jackson had been fine. Was there a mistake? It then occurred to Mark that he could suggest that the test be done again because it would not be fair if a participant was not in his best condition. Yes, he could tell the Captain that. 

“Jackson. He, um,” hesitated Yugyeom, unsure of how to tell the prince what had happened without upsetting Mark. “He did not compete.”

What? Why? 

Yugyeom took Mark’s silence and frown as a sign to elaborate. Taking a deep breath, because this was bound to upset the prince, Yugyeom continued, “He was disqualified due to misconduct. He has been withdrawn as a candidate for the selection. Even if he were to compete,” Yugyeom gulped, “he would not win in his current condition.”

At this, the prince did not keep silent any longer. “Explain,” commanded Mark.

“Jackson was punished, your royal highness,” Yugyeom said, his words almost tumbling over each other as there was no point hiding it any longer. “After that night, he was called to their council the next day. He was questioned. I don’t know what happened during the inquiry but the verdict was a flogging and isolated confinement with no food for three-” 

Mark slammed his book hard unto the wooden surface of the dresser, the sound of which was what had stopped the flow of Yugyeom’s words. 

“You mean to tell me that Jackson was flogged?” rephrased Mark in a murmur, lowering his voice in order to keep it under control as he glared at his page. 

“Yes, your royal highness.”

“And,” said Mark, his eyes narrowing as his hands began to clench into fists, “he has been starving since that night? For two days?” 

Yugyeom winced at the rising anger in Mark’s voice. He could see that the prince’s fists were beginning to shake in what could only be outrage. Even Yugyeom had found it hard to believe when he had first been informed of Jackson’s situation for truly the squire had not committed any crime befitting such punishment. “Y-yes, your royal highness,” Yugyeom confirmed, fighting the urge to back out of the room before Mark lost his temper. What Mark did next, however, surprised the page. The prince haphazardly yanked out some dress shirts and grabbed the nearest overcoat he could reach. It took Mark only a few moments to dress before Yugyeom realised that Mark intended to break his curfew.

“Yo—your royal highness, you’re not supposed to-”

“Where is he?”

“It’s not yet three days, your-”

“Damn it! Where is he?!” demanded Mark, “Tell me. Now.”

“You can’t leave your room, your father-”

Mark stormed right up to Yugyeom and though the page was taller, he shrank back in the face of the prince’s anger. “Do not tell me what I can and cannot do, Kim Yugyeom,” the prince warned. When Yugyeom didn’t respond, Mark declared, “I shall find him myself.” 

With that, Mark made to walk out of his chamber but Yugyeom pleaded at the last instant, “Please, your royal highness, it’ll only hurt Jackson more.”

Mark paused in his step, turning his head to look at his page who used the chance to speak. “It seems the Captain and the council are under the impression that it was Jackson who persuaded you to break the rules, that he was the one who coaxed you out of the castle. And that he was the reason why you were hurt. If you disobey your father’s commands now, the council might see it as a further result of Jackson’s negative influence and that would only get him punished further. Please, your royal highness, please do not respond so. He, he’s hurt enough already.”

Mark listened attentively to Yugyeom’s words. Was that what the council thought? How had they arrived at such an absurd conclusion? But Mark could see the logic in Yugyeom’s explanation and knew that though he had not wanted to dwell on it, others would have noticed that Mark treated Jackson differently. It was absolutely unheard of for a prince to seek out a squire and another impulsive rash act could be misconstrued in many ways. More pressing than that, however, was Yugyeom’s last utterance. 

“How badly is he hurt?” asked Mark, his tone much quieter and certainly more in control. He had to handle the situation as a prince would, as befitting his status. 

“I’m not sure, your royal highness,” confessed Yugyeom but he was quick to add, “I could go see him if you wish. You going might bring more trouble but maybe if I go, there’ll be less talk?”

Mark had to agree. “Go,” ordered Mark but indicated that Yugyeom wait a moment. Mark had walked over to his nightstand to pick up a vial of liquid that the physicians had used to apply on the cut on his arm. It was a concoction that stung but it relieved the pain and was supposed to help heal wounds. Mark handed the vial to his page along with fresh linen. “Give this to him. Make sure he uses it.”

“Yes, your royal highness,” said Yugyeom, taking the vial before bowing and then he left. Once Yugyeom had gone, Mark sank unto his bed. He had to give careful thought about how to handle this. For Jackson’s sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this part is still not done yet! Argh!


	4. To protect p.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark takes matters into his own hands. Jackson had protected him, now it was Mark's turn to seek justice for Jackson.

Yugyeom made his way to where Jackson was kept in solitary confinement. It was a room tucked away in a lonely corner of the barracks and obviously used for storage most of the time as it was rarely needed for anything else. Punishment of this sort was rarely carried out but then again, no royal ever did get hurt like this before. If Yugyeom guessed correctly, he was sure the prince was the one who had wanted to leave the castle that night and Jackson hadn’t told because first of all, it wasn’t his place as a squire to comment on the prince’s actions and secondly, Jackson most probably did it out of loyalty. 

It was a good thing that he had bumped into Nicholas along the way. Nicholas had just been to visit Jackson, or to be more specific, had volunteered to change Jackson’s bandages so that he could see how his friend was doing. Yugyeom eyed the streaks of dried blood soaked into the bandages with apprehension. Even just from the strips of cloth, the pageboy could tell that the flogging had been a severe one. 

“Has he not had any food at all?” Yugyeom asked Nicholas. 

Nicholas could only shake his head sadly. “None. And he actually needs the nourishment to heal.”

“Was, was the beating that bad?”

“Captain Javier,” admitted Nicholas in a hushed voice, “can be heavy-handed…”

Javier? That was one of the captains Yugyeom disliked for he walked around with a twisted idea of keeping order while acting like a tyrant. Thank goodness Javier wasn’t the Head Captain as that was Captain Paul who was much kinder and had been the one to mentor Jackson. 

“I’m going to see Jackson,” Yugyeom informed Nicholas. Nodding, Nicholas pointed the way and then turned to leave before Yugyeom called out. “Oh yes, by the way Nicholas, congratulations on winning the competition.”

Nicholas gave Yugyeom a hesitant smile. “We both know I shouldn’t have won.” Then Nicholas left.

Nicholas is a good man, thought Yugyeom to himself as he approached the room Jackson was in. He did not know what he was going to see but he tried to prepare himself anyway. Reaching the room at the end of the corridor, he looked through the open bars but the room was dark. Trying the latch, Yugyeom was surprised to find it unlocked and was even more surprised to realise that the room’s occupant could have tried to escape. Well, any occupant but Jackson he supposed. The squire’s sense of responsibility was too strong for that. Jackson was lying on a makeshift bed, the outline of his form illuminated by Yugyeom’s candle. 

“N-Nicholas?” asked Jackson, screwing his eyes shut because of the flame. Yugyeom was pained to hear the squire’s weakened voice. 

“No, it’s me. Yugyeom,” said the page, kneeling down by Jackson’s bed after placing the candle holder on the nearest flat surface which turned out to be an upturned crate. 

“Yugyeom?” Jackson’s parched voice cracked a little. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see how you’re doing.”

“Hmph,” huffed Jackson in an attempt to chuckle, “you didn’t come on your own accord, did you?”

“No,” Yugyeom confessed with a smile, his eyes studying Jackson’s face and what he could see of Jackson’s form. “But I was worried about you though. Oh, and the prince asked me to bring this,” said Yugyeom, pulling out a vial from his pocket. “I have orders to put it on your wounds.” 

“Wait, the prince knows about this?” asked Jackson, voice now agitated. He had hoped the prince wouldn’t find out about his punishment. He had wanted to keep it quiet at least until he healed and could tell the prince he was sorry that he couldn’t be part of the prince’s guard. At this point, he wasn’t even sure about his future as a squire for Captain Javier had threatened that Jackson be dismissed completely. Maybe he could just squeeze in a chance to say good bye to the prince before he had to leave the castle for good. Regardless of how things might turn out, however, he didn’t want the prince to worry just in case Mark decided to blame himself for some obnoxiously noble reason. Not that Jackson was worth worrying about, a small voice in the squire’s head said. Jackson wasn’t important enough for that… he’d never be important enough for that, the voice chastised. It was his own fault that he had lost the chance to serve the prince. What was one squire, more or less… 

Yet, the prince had still cared enough to send medication, said another hopeful voice, but it was a voice Jackson stifled. It wouldn’t do to think like that ever again. 

“How much does he-”

“Don’t worry. He knows you were beaten and starved but nothing else. No details,” Yugyeom assured Jackson before leaning over to sit on the edge of Jackson’s bed. “But he does want you to use this and I’d rather not be punished for not carrying out my orders,” Yugyeom tried to say lightly in order to persuade Jackson to consent. “May I?” the page asked, lifting his hands to indicate he wanted to pull back Jackson’s bed cover. 

Jackson hesitated before giving a small nod. He shifted his position so that he was propped up on his elbows, hissing a little at the pressure it put on his back. 

“Hang on,” said Yugyeom, taking the candle and repositioned it so that all Jackson had to do was sit up. “Now I’ll unwrap your bandages, okay, Jackson?”

“Yeah.”

With careful fingers, Yugyeom untied the knot that held the bandage together before unfolding the cloth, winding his arms around Jackson to do so. It wasn’t until he got to the last layer of bandages that Yugyeom saw blood had seeped through. He frowned. It’d been two days and Jackson’s wounds were still bleeding. Being extremely gentle then so that he could minimize as much friction as possible, Yugyeom peeled away the last layer, silently gasping at the red streaks gashed into Jackson’s back. Yugyeom counted no less than twelve strikes, the skin around them still red and raw. Twelve, that is, not counting the shallower ones that seemed to have sealed. Biting his lips together, Yugyeom tried to stop himself from cursing as he took the vial, soaked a clean piece of linen with its contents, linen that he had brought from the prince’s room, and proceeded to dab the liquid unto Jackson’s wounds. To inflict such injury on another human being, an innocent one at that, troubled the page.

The sting caused the squire to hiss and jerk slightly whenever Yugyeom touched an exceptionally raw spot. Jackson had no idea how it looked like and neither did he really want to know. Yugyeom tended to his back for quite a while before the page seemed satisfied enough to re-tie the bandage, wrapping it tenderly around his torso. As much as Jackson hadn’t expected it, he was extremely grateful for Yugyeom’s gentle ministrations so he whispered his thanks as Yugyeom helped him lie back down on his stomach, tucking the cover loosely around Jackson.

“One more day?” asked Yugyeom.

Jackson nodded. “One more, and then till sunrise the next day.”

“I see. Now go back to sleep.”

“Em,” hummed Jackson, eyes already closing. Yugyeom was just about to leave after applying slight pressure on the squire’s shoulder in an encouraging gesture when Jackson reached out to catch hold of the page’s wrist.

“Wait.”

“What is it?” asked Yugyeom, crouching down again, thinking Jackson might need something else.

“Don’t tell the prince.”

“What?”

“Don’t tell the prince. He doesn’t have to know the details.”

“But Jackson, you know how the prince is. He’d want to know,” protested Yugyeom. 

“Promise me, please, Yugyeom. Please not a word.”

Yugyeom saw the pleading in Jackson’s eyes, his face anxious with desperation that Jackson couldn’t hide completely. Helpless, Yugyeom promised. “I won’t.”

“Okay. Rest well” said Jackson, “and thank you.” Laying his cheek against his pillow, Jackson let his eyes close.

Yugyeom merely patted Jackson’s shoulder and then left. He fully intended to return tomorrow to tend to Jackson again. Dreading what was to come, Yugyeom made his way back to the prince’s chamber because he knew the prince would be waiting, probably pacing the room in agitation. True enough, he was given permission to enter the prince’s chambers the moment his knuckles first rapped on the door. 

“Your royal highness,” Yugyeom said with a bow by way of greeting before looking up. Mark was only partially dressed now and sitting on a chair by his table instead of being in his bed though it was late. The prince resisted the impulse to command Yugyeom to speak, to tell him everything the page had seen because the prince had already been hasty enough. 

Yugyeom took the hint. “He is resting now, your royal highness. His wounds have been tended to and he seems… fine.” Yugyeom had no idea what else to say that wouldn’t compromise the promise he made to Jackson. 

Mark waited a while longer but Yugyeom kept silent. Growing increasingly frustrated, Mark barked out, “Well?”

“Yes, your royal highness?” asked Yugyeom meekly.

“How badly is Jackson hurt? Is he in pain? What about his condition?” Mark fired in rapid succession. Seeing Yugyeom remain resolutely mute, however, made Mark want to grit his teeth. “Talk,” commanded Mark but Yugyeom could only shake his head. Mark’s eyes narrowed as he concentrated in easing the tension out of his body. It wouldn’t do to lose his temper. “Answer me,” said Mark, trying again but once more, Yugyeom shook his head.

Something seemed to occur to Mark and he looked at his page in contemplative silence. Watchful, he studied Yugyeom’s face and asked, “Did Jackson make you promise not to say anything?” 

Mark’s accurate guess startled the page. The prince’s uncanny observations of things that usually escaped attention was unnerving to say the least and Mark took Yugyeom’s lack of response as an affirmative. Well then, thought Mark, time to test his skill at silent interrogation. 

“The vial,” Mark said, lifting the palm of his right hand as indication that Yugyeom hand it over. Almost tripping over his feet, Yugyeom took the vial from his pocket and placed it in the prince’s open hand with a bow. Mark brought it up to his eyes, noticing with a pang that more than half of it had been used. Jackson must be hurt more than he had dared to hope. 

“Now,” the prince said, turning his attention back to Yugyeom who took half a step back under the prince’s glare, “you do not have to speak but you will shake or nod your head in response. It is troublesome but I respect your desire to keep your promise. Understood?”

Yugyeom nodded earnestly, relieved that the prince was giving him a way out. 

“Are his arms injured?” No.

“His legs?” No.

“His back?” Yes.

And so the one-sided questions went on until Mark knew all he could about Jackson’s unjust punishment but having that knowledge did not bring him any satisfaction. To think that Jackson bore the lashings with wounds that still bled only hardened his resolution to carry out what he had planned while Yugyeom had been away attending to the squire. Dismissing his page who by now was almost asleep on his feet, Mark went to bed himself but sleep did not come to Mark that night. As he lay in bed, an image of a lone boy lying on an uncomfortably hard mattress with a mauled back grimacing whenever he moved too quickly filled Mark’s mind. Jackson deserved justice and Mark was determined to achieve that.

 

* * *

 

After being served his breakfast, which Mark ate with a twinge of guilt knowing that the squire was going to starve until the next morning, the prince set about seeking an audience with his father with the intention of asking for a meeting between him and the captains, a meeting that his father would mediate. It took only a little prodding and hint that injustice had been served under his father’s watch to get the king to agree. 

King Raymond was a fair king, kind when he could afford to be but strict when it came to the upholding of values on which his rule was built on. He knew that for the people to continue trusting him, he had to show them that he was sincere in governing the land and that he had their best interest at heart, an interest that took no notice of social status, wealth or power. He believed that to have a peaceful kingdom, each and every individual has to feel respected in order to then be able to respect others. That was the principle King Raymond had been taught as a young prince and it was that very principle which had proven invaluable during his reign.  
Mark knew all that, especially his father’s emphasis on fairness, and used it to his advantage. At the same time, however, Mark didn’t know that his father was also eager to agree to his son’s request because the king took it as a sign that Mark was now getting more involved in matters of governance. Rather than just read, train and study, Mark was being more active, asserting his role as prince but what gratified the king most was that Mark had requested the meeting not to advance his own desires but it was born out of indignation on behalf of others. That was a good sign, a very good sign. 

Thus, the King found himself seated between his son on his right and three captains of the guard on his left. They all waited for the king to begin speaking for that was tradition. While waiting, Mark studied the faces of the three men in front of him. These were faces he recognised but barely knew except for Captain Paul who had most to deal with the King as Head Captain. Out of the remaining two, there was one who caught his observant eyes. Javier, Mark believed his name to be, seemed a little indignant at having been summoned to the meeting. It wasn’t until his father broached the purpose of the meeting and mentioned the name Jackson that Javier’s lip lifted ever so slightly into a spontaneous snarl before disappearing without a trace. Mark saw this and grimly took note of it.

“It has come to my attention that a young squire, Jackson, is being punished. Perhaps unduly so?”

Paul bowed and turned towards the king to indicate that he would reply. “Your majesty,” said Paul, “Jackson was punished because of his misconduct as a squire. His behaviour broke the utmost code we hold as knights for he brought harm to your family whom we’ve sworn our loyalty to.”

“Harm? In what way?” asked Mark, irked at the general statement that Captain Paul had given. It was a statement that specified nothing.

Paul turned to look at the prince. Dipping his head in respect before answering, “It is my understanding that the cut on your arm was caused by Jackson’s hand, your highness.”

“Was that what Jackson told you?” asked Mark. It was no surprise if Jackson had thought so. The guilt-ridden apology the squire had uttered the moment he realised Mark was injured was not at odds with this. 

“To be honest, your highness,” replied Paul, “Jackson refused to say anything except for one statement. At the council, he claimed everything was his fault and then requested for immediate punishment.” The Head Captain then turned to the King, “because he refused to speak or deny accusations made toward him, we were left with no choice.”

“Accusations?” the King repeated, a slight frown appearing at the mention of the word.

At this, Paul withdrew into his chair which indicated that he was not going to elaborate. Such a small but telling gesture from a man he knew and respected made the King realise that things were not as straightforward as a punishment for misbehaviour. There was something else at the root here. When none of the three captains spoke up, the King asked again, “What accusations?”

“It was an interrogation technique, your majesty,” said Javier, leaning forwards slightly. All this fuss made over one measly squire disgusted him. His voice, however, did not show his distaste. It was smooth, polite and controlled. “By accusing him, we had hoped it would goad Jackson into telling the truth of why the prince was to be found outside the castle in harm’s way.” Javier remembered the interrogation well. He had been the one in charge of questioning and the weasel of a squire was smarter than he looked. Javier had intended to make Jackson slip up, to make a mistake that Javier could then use for his own purposes. Unfortunately, the rat had remained stubborn which only drove Javier to spitefully increase the severity of the boy’s punishment. Paul, on his part, was surprised at the venomous way Javier had reacted but because the punishment had already been pronounced, Paul could not retract it, not when Jackson immediately agreed that the punishment was what he deserved. Looking at the boy’s face during the council meeting, Paul saw pride and a hunger for atonement so he let Jackson be. Even as the unyielding branches tore into his skin and flesh, Jackson hadn’t made a sound.

After more ‘discussion’ laced with polite denial and deflection, Mark had had enough. The purpose he called this meeting was not to hear excuses for Jackson’s punishment. That was far from his intention.

“Captains,” addressed Mark to the three men seated in front of him, “am I right to conclude that Jackson was punished because he allegedly caused me harm?”

“Yes, your royal highness,” said Paul, quick to prevent Javier from speaking. 

“Then I confess that I was the one who put myself in harm’s way. I was curious about the fair and forced Jackson to accompany me.” 

“That matters not, your highness. The fact is Jackson failed to protect you,” came Javier’s voice.

“On the contrary, Captain Javier,” said Mark in what was becoming known as his signature quelling tone, “Jackson succeeded in protecting me.”

“Your royal highness, you were injured,” insisted the captain, “your arm-”

“-Was the least of the injuries I could have suffered. The attackers had me captive and if not for Jackson’s quick response, my fate would have been much worse.” Mark then told of the reason why they were in the predicament in the first place; it was to save a girl’s honour. He then spoke of how Jackson had single-handedly bested five men without his weapon, how bravely Jackson had fought and shielded him as they raced back to the castle. He was very careful, however, to avoid embellishment in order to tell the bare facts of what had happened. The prince was very much aware that intervening in matters of governance like this could cause friction within the faction, and judging from Javier’s countenance, there was already trouble but Mark was determined to speak where Jackson had remained silent.

The King looked with curious surprise at his son as the argument unfolded before him. Rarely had he seen Mark so intent on a single course of action and displaying such tact and eloquence while subtly taking lead of the conversation at hand – needless to say, the King felt proud of his son. 

“Seems like the young squire did well,” the King chimed in to halt the argument as Javier looked like he was marshalling his thoughts for a protest. 

Paul nodded gravely. He had not known any of this and the King knew that his friend had been ignorant of the circumstances as well, especially if the only other person who knew about what happened apart from Mark had chosen to keep quiet. “We shall look into the matter, your majesty,” Paul said in response to the King’s statement which those in attendance knew to be the final word on the matter, “I apologize that we have acted in haste and will do our best to uphold your honour.”

“And for the lad, Jackson, as well?” asked the King to which Mark just barely held back from giving his father an appreciative smile. 

“His punishment is null. He shall be treated immediately,” stated Paul, inwardly relieved that it was the king who had pushed for this matter for Paul had been wondering how to go about that very thing without damaging Javier’s authority.

“Good.” 

“And,” interjected Mark who had found no other way to bring up the last item on his agenda, “regarding the selection of my royal guard.”

“Ah, yes, your royal highness. The process was finished yesterday,” Paul informed the prince. “Your new guard shall begin his duties tomorrow morning.”

Mark hesitated, knowing that it would be insolent of him to express his request to the captains so he addressed his father instead. “Father, I know this is selfish of me but I would like to ask that Jackson be the new addition to my guard.”

“Your highness,” Javier exclaimed, “it is one thing to absolve the squire of guilt but to give him the honour of joining your guard – that has to be discussed.”

“Captain Javier,” said Mark, turning to look at Javier with schooled composure, “is not the duty of my royal guard to protect my person?”

“Yes, your royal highness, which is precisely why-”

“Has not Jackson shown great skill and promise as well as a proven ability to do so?”

“He still allowed you to be-”

“Is not the most important quality of a guard to be a willingness to sacrifice their body and life in their duty?”

“Certainly, your royal highness-”

“Then I would say Jackson has proven himself in his actions in the face of real danger,” Mark concluded decisively, a conclusion that brought a smile to Captain Paul’s lips. Jackson had been Paul’s choice from the beginning for the boy’s prowess was admirable but more than that, Paul knew Jackson was a dedicated, loyal genuine soul and the prince needed such people around him especially when he was set to succeed his father’s crown in future. 

“Your royal highness,” said Paul, requesting Mark’s attention. Unlike the evident irritation Javier displayed, Paul’s face was kind and open. He addressed the prince with utmost seriousness, “I only have one question regarding the choice of selecting your royal guard. I do not mean to undermine your wishes but please understand that matters of the guard have always been our responsibility and our decisions are made with consent of your father, his royal majesty the King.” Paul paused to make sure Mark was listening. “Aside from ability and character, what is most important is this,” Paul leaned forwards, eyes looking straight into Mark’s own, “do you trust Jackson? Especially after you were indeed harmed while you were with him regardless of the circumstances. Do you trust him to be by your side?”

Listening carefully to Paul’s words, Mark realised that there was a larger question at stake. They were no longer talking about choosing an able guard. They were talking about choosing an aide, an aide who would be his confidante as well as assistant as he assumed his father’s throne. An aide whom Mark would be able to trust above anyone else. Mark knew that having someone like that was essential if he were to rule the kingdom and just as Paul was his father’s aide, they were now asking him if he could accept Jackson in that role. While he hesitated at the suddenness of the idea, a voice echoed in his memory.

_Stay with me._ Mark remembered the moment Jackson had whispered those very words in his ear. 

_Stay with me._ Mark remembered the ease he felt in pushing aside rising panic to place his trust completely in Jackson. 

Speaking slowly and surely to his father and Paul, Mark answered with a solemn “Yes.”

King Raymond and Paul smiled. 

“That concludes our discussion, I believe,” commented the King with an approving nod at his son. 

Mark was relieved that it was over and the purpose he had set up the meeting was fulfilled but now Mark had more to think about. The idea of Jackson being his aide was strange in that it was new. He was also left to wonder where did his confidence in Jackson come from? Why, when or in fact, how had Mark come to regard Jackson so highly? It was something he had to come to terms with first and though slightly in a daze, Mark made to get up after thanking the captains and his father for their time.

King Raymond had other ideas, however, holding up his hand to indicate that Mark remain seated. The prince took his seat again in confusion. Wasn’t the discussion over?

“About the bandits,” the King said, looking seriously at his captains. This was a grave matter. There had been raids in the past but none at this large a scale. His people were in danger and he did not want them to live in fear. 

“We’ve gained information from the captives, your majesty,” reported Paul. “These bandits hide in the forests that lie on the border between us and our neighbouring kingdom. Whenever they are pressured by either side, the bandits move to attack the other. It seems they have been alternating between two kingdoms for resources as well as targeting travellers on the roads between the two countries.”

The King was not surprised to hear this for he knew that both his and their neighbouring kingdoms were considered prosperous which drew both the good and bad alike. What worried him now was that the bandits were growing in number and if his guards were to launch an attack, the bandits would surely do as they did previously, they would run and invade their neighbouring kingdom. 

“We have to work together with our neighbours,” the King mused to which Paul and his captains agreed. The discussion lasted for a while longer as Mark listened. A while ago, he would have been only vaguely interested but now, the prince was invested in the problem having experienced firsthand how lawlessness could destroy the lives of gentle folk who just wanted to live in peace. 

“This is good timing actually. Mark,” the King said, addressing Mark directly for the first time since this topic began, “Prince Jinyoung will be visiting soon. Make some plans to show him the kingdom. It’s been a while since he last came. And we’ll discuss this matter further then.”

Jinyoung was coming?

Again?

Mark felt a growing feeling of dread. Jinyoung’s visits, the few that have happened, were always trying and Mark was usually glad to be rid of him when it was time for the neighbouring prince to leave. 

“How long will he be staying, father?”

“Roughly a month, if I’m not mistaken.”

Mark stifled a groan. One whole month? Mark just hoped he would survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand enter jinyoung!
> 
> now let's get the fireworks started! hehehe


	5. To practise courtesy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson assumes his position as a member of Mark's personal guard and Jinyoung comes to visit, along with his guard Jaebum.

If one word had to be used to describe the immediate days before and after Jackson joined Mark’s royal guard, it would be ‘awkward’. Jackson wasn’t at all completely at ease with how things had unfolded. He had been woken up from a daze brought on by hunger, given bread and even pieces of meat which was utter luxury, had his wounds tended to once again and was even given a set of clean clothes. As soon as he was presentable, he had been taken to Captain Paul who informed him of the change in his duties. The squire was bewildered to say the least for he had been disqualified and had accepted, though unwillingly so, that he would no longer be able to serve the prince. To suddenly hear that he would report to the prince in a couple of days was confusing. What made it worse was his Captain’s answer to Jackson’s question.

_Why? Jackson had blurted out, unable to comprehend what was happening._

_Because the prince and we captains deem you worthy of that duty, his Captain had said._

Jackson wished he hadn’t heard that. 

The very reason Jackson had accepted his punishment without complaint and even his fate of being kicked out of the castle was that he had failed to protect Mark. He could not understand why they overlooked his grave mistake. He had been the one to yank the dagger through the air. He had been the one to mar the prince’s body with an ugly bleeding gash on the prince’s arm. 

However, a command was a command so though Jackson was riddled with guilt, he found himself standing outside Mark’s study waiting to officially meet the prince as a new member of his royal guard. Swallowing, he dipped his head to take a deep breath. He had decided to tell the prince that this was a mistake. He was not fit to for that responsibility. At least, that was what Jackson planned to say though inwardly, Jackson wanted to refuse this duty for another reason. What irked and gnawed at the squire most was that he did not want the prince’s pity. He didn’t want the prince to give him this position just to make Jackson feel better. There seemed to be no other explanation for the sudden change and it was the last thing Jackson wanted because to receive the prince’s kindness in this form destroyed any pride Jackson might have had in his meager life.

Mark’s order to enter shook Jackson out of his thoughts. He lifted his right hand to the door’s latch and in the process, caught sight of the dark blue ribbon that adorned his sleeve. Blue. The colour of the prince. Jackson had dreamed countless of times how happy and proud he would feel to wear that colour. He had thought he’d be ecstatic but now the strip of blue cloth weighed down his arm and his spirit. Downcast, he entered the prince’s study with a deep bow. 

“Your royal highness,” greeted Jackson before standing up though his eyes never rose above Mark’s feet where the prince was sitting at his table. 

Mark had actually been anticipating this moment. He had allowed himself to imagine Jackson’s happy countenance, proudly announcing that he would now be able to officially serve Mark. He had imagined that there would be a skip in Jackson’s stride with a wide grin plastered on Jackson’s face, a grin of promise for their coming days. 

Not this.

Mark could tell by Jackson’s voice that the squire was disheartened. The way Jackson had walked in to stand at attention felt reluctant in every way. Feeling unreasonably disappointed and even slightly aggravated at Jackson’s behaviour, the prince broke the gloomy silence that had descended on his study.

“Jackson,” the prince started to say but then Mark paused. What was he supposed to say? Congratulations did not seem to suit either the occasion or atmosphere.

“Yes, your royal highness?” There it was again – that dull tone of voice that had nothing of the spark that was Jackson. 

Deciding to cut to the chase, Mark chose to comment, “You do not look happy.” Mark was careful to keep his voice neutral, voicing his remark as if he were commenting on the weather.

“No,” Jackson said, hesitating a moment, “No, I’m not, your royal highness.” Jackson clenched his hands behind his back to keep control of his words and feelings that were threatening to overcome his composure at Mark’s seemingly flippant comment. The prince should know full well why Jackson wasn’t happy. He didn’t want this. 

Not like this.

“Why?” asked Mark, feeling his shoulders tense in apprehension. 

“Your royal highness, I,-” Jackson tried to say before the chaos in his thoughts prevented any further coherence. He wanted to explain so many things but really, it wasn’t his place to do that. Mark was a prince. A prince had no reason to listen to the emotional turmoil of a squire. Biting his lower lip to keep impending self-pity at bay, Jackson happened to look up only for a while to see the prince’s eyes were scrutinizing his every movement. It only served to unnerve Jackson even more. This won’t do. He should just say what he had prepared to say and leave.

“I regret to say that I shall not join your royal guard,” announced Jackson with glum finality. It took him a lot to say it but Jackson was convinced it was the right thing to do.

Mark hid his shock. He realised he was missing something, something important. There were many things that Jackson wasn’t telling him. And he didn’t like it. 

“Explain,” came Mark’s command. 

Jackson inhaled deeply, gathering the remnants of his will to meet the prince’s enquiring gaze. “I do not deserve the honour, your royal highness. I failed to protect you from harm. I-”

Mark could barely absorb what Jackson had just said. All his reasons were too reminiscent of the meeting he had had with the captains and the argument he had put forth regarding Jackson’s appointment still held. How could the squire fail to see that he had protected Mark? Perhaps he was too blinded by his guilt to consider the matter from a different perspective or take into account other reasons for Mark’s actions. If that were the case, Mark would make him see sense. 

“So you think I have made the wrong decision?” the prince asked.

“Yes, your royal highness.”

“So you’re neglecting the fact that you fought off five men on your own which not many other squires could have done?” questioned the prince, his tone beginning to get agitated. “You choose to forget that I had a dagger at my throat yet the result of that predicament is only a scratch on my arm? You are no fool, Jackson Wang. You know you are a skilled fighter and based on ability alone, you are deserving. Unless,” a thought had occurred to Mark as he was speaking, “unless your refusal is not about your ability.”

Mark watched Jackson cringe. Throughout Mark’s questions, Jackson had not reacted yet here he was, finally giving a telltale sign that Mark had obviously touched on some form of truth. 

“Tell me the honest reason for your choice, Jackson Wang. The truth.” This Mark said in full authority as a prince. It was an order and Jackson knew it.

“I do not want this position because of pity, your royal highness,” answered Jackson with the merest trace of petulance. It was the absolute truth and try as he might, Jackson could not keep the slight accusation from showing in his voice. For some reason, Jackson could not help but feel degraded. It was as if Mark was lording the power he had as prince over him, that what Jackson had worked for every waking moment could be handed so easily to him on a silver platter. It just served as a reminder that the disparity between them was too great. All this while, Jackson had always borne in mind that Mark was a prince and he was a mere squire but Jackson had treasured the relationship he had with the prince for never had he felt Mark belittle him or treat him without respect. Until this happened.

Mark blinked, taken aback by Jackson’s response. “Pity?” echoed the prince, “You think I selected you out of pity?”

“You pitied me because I was punished,” Jackson said begrudgingly. “You knew I wanted it so you ordered the place be given to me to make me feel better.”

“So,” said Mark, his fingers gripping the arms of his chair, fingernails digging into the wood before he could continue in a low voice that trembled with growing indignation, “You think my actions were guided by pity? You think I gave you the position because I felt sorry for you? You think that I, as a prince, abused my power to make you feel better? That I did it on a whim?”

Mark rose to stand, drawing himself to his full height, “What if I tell you, Jackson Wang,” continued Mark, a growl entering his tone, “that I chose you because I have observed your behaviour? That I chose you after giving serious thought about the best candidate for my guard? That I valued your character enough to make that choice? That I chose you not out of pity but out of trust?” 

Jackson felt like he had been punched in his gut. Did he understand the prince correctly? It wasn’t because of pity but because the prince believed in him? Trusted him? Never would that thought have crossed Jackson’s mind because… well, simply because he had not believed the prince would have much if any regard for a lowly squire like him. 

“Y-your highness,” stammered Jackson, his head whirling as he tried to get his mind around the implications of what Mark was saying.

Mark, however, was not done. Apart from Jackson’s accusations that Mark had acted out of pity, he was angry that Jackson placed himself at such low value. So low that it had never occurred to the squire that Mark valued him as a person, as a friend, valued him enough now to trust him with his life. And yet, here the squire was, only attributing Mark’s actions to something akin to kindness. “Are you questioning my sense of judgment? Are you questioning my evaluation of your character?” Mark railed on, cheeks flushing as his blood boiled hotter.

“No, your highness! No, no I’m not trying to, I didn’t mean. I-I just never-” cried Jackson lost in his words. He immediately sank on one knee, his left arm folded behind his back while his right pressed across his chest with his palm above his heart, “Please forgive your servant, your royal highness. Please forgive my poor conduct. Please forgive my thoughtless words,” pleaded Jackson, “Please forgive me, please, I beg you!” He had been so wrong about the prince and this entire situation. He had utterly and stupidly misunderstood everything the prince had done. He had tinted every kindness the prince had shown him all this while with a veil of self-centredness, so self-absorbed and blind that he hadn’t thought about Mark.

Jackson’s contrite and heartfelt pleas soothed Mark’s anger. He could not blame Jackson fully for being ignorant of what the squire meant to the prince because, Mark realised as well, he had never given any indication that Jackson was important to him. That was something that Mark resolved to change. 

“Stand up, Jackson,” said Mark, his voice much calmer now that he knew what the problem was. In place of his earlier anger, there was now a need to reassure and comfort the man kneeling before him.

“Only if your pardon is given, your royal highness,” replied Jackson, eyes boring into the woven carpet at his feet. He fully intended to kneel until Mark forgave him.

“You are forgiven,” came Mark’s voice with words that somewhat eased Jackson’s spirit. The prince requested that the squire stand. So, locking his jaw, Jackson rose but could not look at the prince. He felt wretched.

Mark took a step towards Jackson so that they stood face to face. Mark wanted to ensure that Jackson understood and internalized when he was about to say. “Look at me,” the prince said. With difficulty, Jackson dragged his eyes upwards, finally meeting the prince’s gaze. Mark saw the hesitation and disliked the tentativeness through which Jackson regarded him. He wanted Jackson’s gaze to be unburdened, with the bright eyes clear and honest, to see that spark that he had first noticed when they were very young boys. 

“Jackson, listen carefully,” said Mark, waiting until Jackson nodded before he continued without breaking their gaze, “I want you to be my guard. I trust that your utmost desire is to protect me and I trust in your ability to do so.” The prince saw Jackson fidget because the former squire had not yet come to terms with that idea completely but Mark pressed on. “More importantly, Jackson Wang,” Mark spoke again, taking another slow step closer to Jackson so now they were only an arms’ length apart, “I trust you not only as a guard, but as a person. As a friend. I am sorry that I made you my guard without your permission. I realise now that that was a mistake and it was rash of me to assume you would be agree. So now I ask you, as a friend, will you please stand by my side?”

Jackson’s eyes were wide, searching the prince’s face for hints that might negate the prince’s words because it was too good to be true. His ears were ringing, his heart and pulse thundering. His consciousness was struggling to keep up with what Mark had said. He had treasured a hope that the prince did enjoy his company but never in his wildest dreams did he think the prince would utter the words he had just heard. 

“As… as a friend?” breathed Jackson, seeking reassurance. He needed to be sure before he grasped those very words to brand them on his heart and etch them into his very soul. He needed to be sure he could believe this because it would change everything and he did not think his spirit would be able to survive the disappointment if it turned out he had misunderstood the prince again.

“Yes, Jackson,” Mark answered, a gentle and warm smile settling on his lips as he watched wonder fill the squire’s eyes, releasing that sparkle that epitomized who Jackson was to the prince. “As a friend. Will you?”

“Yes,” Jackson gasped. “Yes, your royal highness, yes.”

 

* * *

 

Mark watched as the handsome gilded coach drew up to the castle’s steps with apprehension. It was accompanied by a host of guards on horseback as well as other coaches no doubt carrying the rest of the visitor’s entourage and effects. Descending the steps, he waited for the main coach’s occupant to alight. His footmen, who Mark was glad to note were impeccably dressed, opened the door and sank into a low bow. A firm leg came into view and Mark’s first thought was that Jinyoung had changed. When he had last visited Mark’s kingdom, Jinyoung had been a slim and slight teenager with calculative but mischievous eyes as if he was constantly looking for hidden intentions to mock. The leg Mark now saw was firm and had muscle that was discernible even through his breeches. It was soon hidden by a cape as the occupant hopped out before standing up. Catching sight of sharp chiselled features, Mark realised it wasn’t Jinyoung. In the time it took for Mark to process this, the man had turned around to take the hand of another and this time, Jinyoung’s slender form emerged from the body of the coach. 

“Jinyoung,” Mark greeted first as was his duty as host. 

“Mark,” came Jinyoung’s acknowledgement. Mark remembered that voice well. It was of a lower register now but still held in it a contemplative drawl. 

“Welcome to our kingdom,” said Mark, using the royal plural to formally represent a welcome from his family though they were not there to greet Jinyoung as they had their duties. 

“Would you like to be shown your room to rest until it is time for the welcoming banquet?” Mark asked as they entered the castle hall. It sounded like Mark had Jinyoung’s comfort uppermost in his mind but truthfully, Mark thought that if Jinyoung chose to rest, he’d be free from having to accompany the visiting prince for a while. Until dinner at least. 

Jinyoung gave Mark a knowing smile, “Yes, that does sound pleasant. Travelling is quite tedious, after all.” 

“Our servants will show you the way. It is the same room you occupied during your last visit. I trust it was satisfactory to your wishes?”

“Oh yes, it most certainly was. I shall be glad to have the same room.”

“I am happy it pleases you.”

“Most certainly. Until dinner then?” asked Jinyoung.

“Until dinner,” replied Mark. With a curt nod, both went their separate ways.

The relationship between the two princes was an odd one. Many thought that since both were royals of neighbouring kingdoms and of similar age, Jinyoung being only one year younger than Mark, they would have a lot in common. Their parents certainly thought so and had encouraged prolonged visits to and fro between both kingdoms. Perhaps the assumption that they’d automatically become friends was what prevented them from actually forming a friendship. At least that was the case for Mark. He had been told to be kind to Jinyoung for they would rule the region together in future so it was good to become allies. Mark was sure Jinyoung was told exactly the same thing. It was obvious that good relations between the two kingdoms would only bring about benefits so in many ways, so Mark predominantly saw Jinyoung as a political ally and not a friend. As such, Mark was hesitant and very reluctant to put in effort into developing things into a ‘friendship’ so he often stayed within the realm of polite courtesy. 

Jinyoung, of course, wasn’t blind to what was going on in their parent’s and Mark’s minds either for if Mark was thought to be a good observer, Jinyoung was an excellent one. Though he saw through Mark’s façade as plain a day, he just played along. Jinyoung himself was intent on keeping the superficial politeness between them but he enjoyed agitating the older prince. He knew exactly what to do and say in order to get a reaction from the usually reserved and aloof Mark. It was one of the sole enjoyments he had in his otherwise humdrum life as a prince groomed for the sole intention of inheriting his father’s throne. Besides, learning how to ‘manipulate’ people was a skill that would serve him very well in future and since he could not escape from these visits, he fully intended to have some fun.

 

* * *

 

Mark glanced at Jackson who was standing beside him as they waited to enter the hall. His guard was almost bouncing on his heels in excitement. 

“Aren’t you a little too enthusiastic?” enquired Mark with a smirk.

“It’s my first royal banquet, your royal highness,” gushed Jackson, eyes shining as he tried to imagine what the castle hall would look like as a result of the cleaning and intense work exerted to decorate the large space. The servants in the castle had been at it for days and Jackson simply could not wait. 

Mark could not help but chuckle. “Don’t get your hopes too high. Wouldn’t want you to be disappointed,” Mark commented.

“I won’t be disappointed, your royal highness. I’m sure of that. The only banquet I’ve ever been to involved cheap beer and a hog on a spit,” Jackson informed the prince. As a squire, he had never even been near the hall when a proper royal banquet was on because he was always out patrolling the castle walls to ensure that there were no intruders. Needless to say, Jackson had been looking forward to this evening for quite a while. 

A permanent fixture in his entourage now, Mark saw Jackson far more than when he was a squire but he wasn’t always by his side. It was only when Mark went on excursions outside the castle that a fuller guard was required and that always included Jackson. When the prince was within the walls, however, the members of his guard took turns to escort Mark around the castle in pairs. Most of the time, being on duty meant standing outside the door of whatever room Mark was in, be it his study, his bed chamber, meeting room or the library. The prince had never noticed it but there were more members in his guard than he realised. Knowing they were on rotation, Mark tried to identify the routine in order to know when Jackson would be on duty (heaven forbid Mark stoop as low as to ask the Head of his guard for such information) which served to confirm he’d probably only see Jackson once every other day. 

With Jinyoung’s visit, however, that routine had been put on hold. Extra guards were required around the castle and because a full guard was needed for excursions, which meant that Jackson would be involved, Mark had actually exerted more effort in planning activities for Jinyoung. 

Standing outside the heavy wooden doors through which the muffled chatter seeped through, the prince seemed to be increasingly affected by Jackson’s eagerness. Perhaps this evening might prove enjoyable, thought Mark to himself. The prince took a side-glance at Jackson who had turned towards him with a wide smile on his face, a smile that the prince remembered first seeing when Jackson had first introduced his name, and Mark was about to return the smile with one of his own when he stopped himself. Really. What was coming over him? The prince instantly recomposed himself with the aloof look back on his face just in time before the doors opened to announce his entry. 

Escorting the prince to the main table at the front of the hall, Jackson and another of Mark’s guards solemnly took up their positions behind the prince’s chair. Though on duty, Jackson’s eyes could not help but roam the hall, picking out the yards of multi coloured cloth draped from the rafters and pillars, taking in the wreathes of leaves and flowers hung about the hall to fill it with their fragrance and lingered on the hundreds of candles that now illuminated it. It was the grandest sight he had ever seen.

Then Prince Jinyoung entered the hall to hushed murmurs of admiration because, Jackson decided after finally being close enough to see his face, Prince Jinyoung was certainly handsome. He had enigmatic eyes, dark brows and altogether an attractive face. Jackson’s eyes then flitted to the visiting prince’s guard who had taken position next to him. This man was quite a contrast to the prince. The man had very sharp eyes and a more angular face. He also had an aura that warned others to not even attempt to cross him if they wished to see the dawn of another day. Catching the man’s eye, Jackson gave him a small smile because he too was playing host and wanted the visitors to feel welcomed. The man’s eyebrows rose a fraction as if surprised at Jackson’s gesture but he did not respond otherwise. Instead, he ignored Jackson and focused on his prince in front of him. Jackson’s smile fell a little but only for a moment. Perhaps the visitors were tired after travelling. After all, they were in a foreign place packed to the brim with strangers. Maybe they’d be friendlier as the night went on. 

At last, the king and queen entered and took their place in between the two princes. Formalities ensued with those in attendance bowing to the kingdom’s rulers according to their status, the servants sank into low bows with those of Jackson’s station on one knee, nobleman in a half bow while Mark and Jinyoung dipped their heads. “Rise,” said the king, his voice ringing throughout the hall. After formally welcoming the visiting prince who was then invited to say a few words, the king announced jovially, “Let the banquet begin!” Music immediately filled the hall as chatter broke out instantaneously as people began to eat and be merry. 

The night wore on with multiple forms of entertainment, one being an extremely prepared court jester after which a troubadour serenaded those who wanted to listen with a sad song of love. At the same time, the flow of food, drink and chatter did not stop. Then there was the dancing. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves with the king even ordering the guards to take turns being at ease and join in the festivities. 

Thus, Jackson found himself standing right next to Prince Jinyoung’s guard. The man had barely relaxed, his eyes always scanning the crowd around him as well as the banisters and hallways above. He seemed very much aware of anything or anyone who passed within close proximity of his prince, eyeing them warily.

“Hello there,” greeted Jackson, deciding to begin the conversation first. 

The man turned to glance at Jackson, deciding to nod his head out of courtesy and then focused his attention again on his prince who was then talking to the queen. 

“My name’s Jackson, Jackson Wang. What’s yours?” Jackson asked, unfazed by the lack of response. 

The man reluctantly looked at Jackson. Jackson could see a hint of annoyance in the way the man’s eyes narrowed. "Jaebum, Im Jaebum” the man replied. Jackson noted the rich timber of his voice.

“Jae…bum,” echoed Jackson, trying to get used to the syllables. 

Jaebum gave a quick and firm nod in acknowledgement of Jackson’s efforts before turning his gaze again unto his prince. Really, thought Jaebum, this guard with the wavy dark hair was annoying. If he were truly a guard, that is. Surely he should be fully immersed in his duty to watch his own prince as danger could come from any direction without warning and Jaebum would be damned if he allowed himself to be distracted from his responsibilities. If this Jackson guy did not want to act like a guard, so be it for Jaebum was not going to be dragged into shirking his own duty. He kept silent, hoping that the lack of response would discourage any further attempt at conversation but, lo and behold, Jackson spoke again.

"So, Jaebum,” asked Jackson, shifting his weight unto another leg as they had been standing for quite a while, “How long have you been a guard?”

Jaebum clenched his jaw slightly, a move that did not go unnoticed to Jackson. “Long enough to know that idle chatter is not encouraged,” came Jaebum’s cutting reply. 

Again, Jackson was unfazed. “Is it?” asked Jackson curiously, “I haven’t been a guard for long so I don’t really know too well what I have to do. Actually,” mused Jackson who took a step sideways to stand closer to Jaebum whom he noticed was taller than him, “I have some questions about being a guard. Can I ask you?”

At this, Jaebum more than clenched his jaw. He bit down so hard that Jackson thought the guard’s jaw was going to dislocate. “Ask your superiors,” replied Jaebum, eyes focused resolutely on the prince’s figure in front of him.

“I would already have asked them if I felt I could ask them,” said Jackson, which caused Jaebum’s brow to furrow as he tried to understand what Jackson meant, “There are questions that I don’t think I should ask my superiors, cause, well, I don’t want them to think I’m too ignorant. So I thought I could ask you. After all, you’re only visiting so I won’t have to face you for the rest of my life even if I utterly embarrass myself in front of you. ”

“You-” hissed Jaebum, pressing his arms to his side to keep himself from slapping Jackson because the lad was really trying his patience.

Jackson saw then that Jaebum was irritated and hastily apologized, “Hey, I didn’t mean to make you angry,” said Jackson with an apologetic smile. Taking a flicker of Jaebum’s eyes to him as a sign that he was not going to be punched, Jackson took the chance to explain. “If you really rather I not ask you any questions, it’s perfectly fine. I just thought that perhaps talking about our duties might be better than ‘idle chatter’ about the weather or the food or something. I am sorry if I upset you though.”

As much as Jaebum wanted to peg Jackson down as a poor excuse for a guard whom he would choose to utterly dislike from here on end, there was a sincerity in Jackson’s voice and face that prevented that. Jaebum could see that Jackson was honest in his apology and perhaps he really did have questions about being a guard.

“Maybe,” Jaebum said, the irritation ebbing and his voice much less tensed, “maybe we could talk later.”

“Really?” replied Jackson with a grateful smile. 

“Yeah, really,” answered Jaebum with a barely noticeable lop-sided smile of his own.

While Jackson and Jaebum had been ‘talking’, Jinyoung noticed that Mark happened to glance at his guard whenever the man spoke loud enough for the sound of his voice to reach the royal table. With the noise in the hall, however, one could barely make out what the conversation was between their guards. Intrigued, Jinyoung continued to watch Mark even as he sustained a conversation with the queen who was asking about the wellbeing of his parents. It wasn’t often that Mark showed any interest at events like this. The kingdom’s prince was usually aloof, eyes lingering leisurely on the happenings in the hall but this time, there was an alertness in Mark’s eyes that Jinyoung couldn’t remember having seen before. Standing as the queen excused herself, Jinyoung had the chance to shift over to where Mark sat.

“It’s a good banquet,” Jinyoung remarked.

“Thank you for the compliment. We did hope you would enjoy it,” came Mark’s reply, slipping back into the politeness they were accustomed to between them. 

“Our guards seem to be enjoying themselves as well,” added Jinyoung with a glance at the two who had inclined their heads closer together. “He is your guard, is he not?” asked Jinyoung, a tilt of his head indicating that he was referring to Jackson. 

“Yes, he is,” Mark answered carefully, a little wary now of what Jinyoung could mean by his question. 

“It’s rare to see Jaebum actually talk to someone he’s just met. Your guard must have gotten past his defences fairly quickly,” mused Jinyoung, turning to look fully at their guards in a move calculated to get Mark to follow suit. Mark did, studying the two men dressed in the tunics of their respective kingdoms uniforms. Jackson seemed at ease, obviously absorbed in his conversation.

“Seems Jaebum has taken a liking to him,” Jinyoung added and to his delight he saw the return of the previous alertness in Mark’s eyes that he had first noticed earlier that evening. Not being able to resist testing his suspicion further, Jinyoung asked, “What is his name?”

Mark’s eyes flicked back to Jinyoung, “Who?”

“Your guard. What’s his name?” repeated Jinyoung, keeping his tone casually interested. 

“I was unaware you took an interest in my servants, Jinyoung,” replied Mark who for some reason was very reluctant to tell Jinyoung Jackson’s name. 

Jinyoung could read the subtle warning in Mark’s tone and it delighted him! “Just curious,” said Jinyoung, a polite smile on his lips but his eyes were too observant for Mark’s liking. To change the topic of conversation, Mark informed the visiting prince of the plans he had made for the duration of Jinyoung’s visit. Jinyoung listened carefully, thanking Mark when appropriate and expressing an excitement that would have been purely courtesy if not for Jinyoung’s newest source of amusement. It seemed as if his visit this time would be far more entertaining which was all due to this Jackson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i edited the tags for this story as now jinyoung and jaebum are in the story!
> 
> and so begins the second story arc of Prince Mark and his knight, Jackson. 
> 
> please do leave comments about what you think of this chapter. i love to read feedback :D Perhaps, for example, parts you particularly liked?


	6. To practise courtesy p.2

“Your father his royal majesty King Raymond has been very good to us,” said a middle-aged woman who ran one of the many bakeries in town. She was beaming at the prince, clutching a tray that consisted of an array of nibbles in her hands, urging the prince to eat all he could as she unashamedly handed Mark piece after piece. 

“I shall be sure to relay your gratitude to my father,” answered Mark with a polite smile. The woman responded with a brilliant one of her own. She and the townsfolk crowding around were pleasantly surprised to see the prince so responsive. During previous visits to the town of this sort, Mark had often seemed disinterested. He began these visits as a young prince accompanying his father and as soon as his father deemed the prince old enough, these visits were done by Mark alone. Initially Mark had thought of them bothersome but because his father insisted that this was necessary to engage with the people in their kingdom, Mark had accepted it out of obligation. Ever since the night of the fair, however, Mark had a renewed respect and concern for the townsfolk which explained why he had abandoned his previous aloof air and was noticeably more courteous to those who wished to speak to him. 

Stationed at the prince’s side, Jackson watched the exchange with a smile that was expressed more through his eyes than his lips. Witnessing the woman and townsfolk gush over Mark’s every gesture, glance and word delighted Jackson for he saw that they clearly adored the prince. As the entourage strolled along the many streets, Jackson made sure that he stood next to or close to Mark’s person. It was a position given to Jackson in an unspoken understanding amongst the guards and though it could have been interpreted as favouritism on the prince’s part, they did not question the prince’s preference thus far because Jackson was that much of an amiable individual. He expressed no ill-intent and if the prince seemed to be in a better mood if Jackson were around, the guards accepted that. 

The reason why a full guard along with the visiting price were to be found in town was that Mark had decided to include a tour of the kingdom’s main market square in Jinyoung’s itinerary as it was the briefest way to introduce the kingdom’s produce and industry. Jinyoung ambled along with polite curiosity and, Jackson noted that unlike Mark, Jinyoung made more effort to engage in small conversations, managing to make the briefest conversations seem that much more personal as he asked questions and listened to the answers. Good and effective though Jinyoung was, however, Jackson felt that Mark shone brighter in his eyes for though his prince was less expressive, his tiniest gesture from the mere lift of an eyebrow or the slightest smile spoke volumes and the recipient of such gestures wore them like badges of honour. 

Jackson’s attention was drawn away from watching Mark’s reaction to the fourth morsel of pastry that the prince had put into his mouth by the visiting prince.

“Jackson, what is this?” asked Jinyoung, holding up a dried sprig of what seemed to be a type of herb. 

Jackson was quite surprised to be addressed by the other prince for it wasn’t really decorum for royalty to address their inferiors for casual matters. Glancing at Mark to see that his prince was still occupied which was perhaps why Jinyoung had addressed him, Jackson answered, “It’s wild thyme, your royal highness. It grows in the fields of the forests and is used quite a bit in cooking here.”

“Ah, I see,” said Jinyoung, holding it to his nose to take in its scent. “It smells… slightly bitter.”

“Oh yes it is,” replied Jackson with a laugh, “especially if the cook is heavy handed. I once had a loaf that was practically covered with thyme and it was not pleasant at all.”

Jinyoung gave a small laugh in response to Jackson’s. There was a ringing, high-pitched quality in the guard’s laugh that was pleasant to him. “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Jinyoung remarked, studying Jackson’s scrunched nose with amusement as the guard seemed to be able to recall the taste of the said loaf all too vividly. “What dishes use tyme-” Jinyoung paused in the middle of his question to check the herb’s name. 

Jackson chipped in naturally, “Thyme, your royal highness.”

“Thank you, Jackson. What dishes use thyme?” asked Jinyoung with the sole intention of keeping Jackson engaged in conversation for a little while longer, especially because he had caught Mark glancing over to them. He had no interest in the kingdom’s cuisine. Food was food. What he was interested in was the glint in Mark’s eyes whenever Jinyoung occupied Jackson’s attention.

It was a ploy that Jinyoung sustained throughout the market trip. Whenever Mark was occupied, Jinyoung would make it a point to address random questions to Jackson to which the guard answered readily enough. He did not do this too often for it would be strange to address his questions only to the guard so he interspersed such moments between paying attention to Mark and the various traders. To Jinyoung’s glee, the glint in Mark’s eyes grew as the visit wore on until it was finally over. 

Jinyoung found himself seated next to Mark in the royal coach as their guards escorted them back to the castle. It had been an exhausting afternoon and Jinyoung was glad to put aside his polite public persona. It was infinitely more comfortable to assume the persona he had for Mark and yet, at the back of Jinyoung’s mind, he realised that in a strange way, he was most himself when he was alone with Mark for there was little need to pretend. There was no need to impress, there was no need to garner favour because it was already given due to the political ties of the two kingdoms. Though they put on polite airs, both knew and accepted that it was a façade and that they were merely playing their roles as ‘friends’. In that sense, there were perhaps most honest when they were with each other even if neither of them ever directly spoke of their charade.

Sitting next to Mark in the privacy of the coach, however, was too good an opportunity to pass up so Jinyoung broke the silence.

“It was an interesting tour,” remarked Jinyoung as he turned his head to look at Mark.

“I’m happy you enjoyed it,” came Mark’s reply though the prince did not look at his neighbour. 

“Oh, I certainly did. I learned a lot about your kingdom from your guard,” said Jinyoung, careful to hold back a smirk at how Mark’s gaze hardened ever so slightly at the mention of Jackson. “I would have asked you but you were occupied with your citizens and I did not want to interrupt your conversations.”

Mark could not believe Jinyoung’s brazenness. Mark knew Jinyoung was trying to irk him and for some reason had decided, or rather discovered, the easiest way to do it. Mark had yet to understand his own reactions such as why, for example, Mark felt a twinge in his gut whenever he had caught Jackson and Jinyoung laughing together or why Mark had felt like commanding Jackson’s attention back to him whenever Jackson had directed his smile at Jinyoung. It was confusing and certainly not how he should be reacting in such situations. Honestly, Jackson was just answering Jinyoung’s questions. Jackson was just being courteous and polite. In fact, it was Jackson’s nature to be friendly to everyone... But why, countered a small voice, why did Jackson have to share his smile so readily? Why did Jackson have to be that courteous? Mark found that he felt a shade of resentment towards Jackson for behaving thus. Not wanting to give Jinyoung any further reason to goad him, however, Mark remained silent.

Jinyoung noted Mark’s increased sullenness with glee. This was too much fun to stop and besides, Jinyoung realised as the day had worn on, Jackson was actually quite interesting to talk to. The guard was always ready to share personal anecdotes and ideas and spoke with such liveliness and animation that Jinyoung found it entertaining to just watch and listen as the other spoke. This realisation only made Jinyoung more determined to carry on with Jackson for there was nothing to lose but all to gain. Not only did it annoy Mark, which Jinyoung found infinitely amusing, he was also able to learn more about Jackson which, to Jinyoung’s surprise, he was looking forward to.

 

* * *

 

Jackson, on the other hand, found it quite difficult to talk to Jaebum though it was something the former particularly wanted to do for he meant to take Jaebum up on his offer to talk about being a guard. However, Jaebum was always with Jinyoung and barely left the visiting prince’s side. So it was only when the princes were together that Jackson could actually meet Jaebum but even then, the latter was too wrapped up in carrying out his duty as a guard to talk and Jackson knew better than to step on Jaebum’s toes on that matter. In short, it had been a week and they still hadn’t talked. Knowing that the visit was coming closer to an end with every day that passed, Jackson went out on a limb and sought Jaebum out when the princes went their separate ways to retire for the night after dinner with Mark’s parents. Wishing Mark a hastier good night than usual, Jackson shut the door of Mark’s bedchamber and headed over to the visiting prince’s quarters instead of back to his own bed.

Smiling at members of Jinyoung’s entourage and at the guards standing at Jinyong’s door as he passed them, Jackson stopped in front of what he assumed and hoped was Jaebum’s room. He knew it was located next to the visiting prince for security reasons so Jackson raised his hand and rapped smartly on the wooden door. He listened for a while but did not hear a sound. Was Jaebum not in his room? Surely Jinyoung would have gone to bed and Jaebum should already be relieved of his duties? Frowning, Jackson tried again but was met with silence apart from glances from the guards nearby. 

“Jaebum?” Jackson called in a low voice, placing his lips right up against the door’s frame before pressing his ear against the door in hopes of hearing something. To his relief, he heard rustling and soon the door opened to reveal a portion of Jaebum’s annoyed face. 

“What is it Jackson?” the visiting guard demanded, obviously unhappy at the interruption to his night’s routine. He had been just about to climb into a bed and had only decided to answer his door when he heard Jackson’s voice. From the little Jaebum saw and heard of Jackson, he knew that the new guard was nothing if not persistent so rather than irk others along the corridor, no less his prince, Jaebum thought he had little choice. 

“I just thought we could talk?” explained Jackson sheepishly, choosing to ignore the fact that Jaebum had actually pretended to not be in his room earlier. “Over beer?” Jackson suggested and upon seeing Jaebum frown, he hastily added, “We won’t be leaving the castle. There’s beer down in the kitchens and we’ll be close by.” He then paused to bite his lower lip, “Please?”

Jaebum could only sigh wearily. He didn’t think Jackson was doing it on purpose but the pleading innocent look in his wide eyes would certainly have been used by someone of lesser character to beguile others and get their ways. It was, to Jaebum, an endearing look and he didn’t have the heart to reject Jackson especially since he had promised that they could talk. 

“Alright, give me a moment,” replied Jaebum and he was rewarded with a grateful smile. He grabbed his overcoat from a chair nearby and followed Jackson down to the kitchens.

Soon, they were seated on a bench in one of the many gardens of the castle, this particular one housing vegetable plots. Tankards clunking dully in a toast, Jaebum decided to just relax and enjoy the pleasant night air. It was much quieter now, peaceful. After a few moments, he glanced at Jackson who was unexpectedly quiet. Jaebum thought he’d be pelted with question after question by now and yet the guy hadn’t said a word. Judging from Jackson’s expression, it would seem that the questions or things he wanted to talk about weren’t that easy to bring up so Jaebum decided to take the lead.

“What was it you wanted to talk about?” Jaebum asked conversationally, taking a sip of his beer. It was different from the ones brewed back in his own kingdom but still nice.

Jackson’s eyes flickered to Jaebum for a moment before focusing on the tankard he held in his hands. He didn’t particularly want to drink but he had suggested beer thinking that it would help get Jaebum out of his room. “It’s just… about being a guard… Where, uh,” Jackson hesitated, “I mean do you… are there boundaries?” 

"Boundaries?"

“Yeah, like how do you know what a guard should do or shouldn’t do?” 

“That isn’t a question really. You do your duty.” Honestly, Jaebum thought it was an odd question for wasn’t it taken for granted that they have sworn their lives to serve their prince?

“No, no, I don’t mean duty like protecting the prince, making sure he’s safe and stuff. All that I’m fully clear about. It’s just… the, like, the other things?”

“Hmm… like?”

“Like… heavens, this is difficult,” groaned Jackson, bringing a hand up to rub his face in frustration. Jaebum could tell that Jackson was clearly having difficulty wording his thoughts but he chose to be patient. Whatever Jackson was concerned about seemed something that had been bothering him for quite a while.

“For example,” Jackson said after quite a bit of thinking, “do you see Prince Jinyoung as more than a prince? Maybe something more than a superior? Maybe, I don’t know, maybe something that could be considered similar to a friend?”

“Is that how you perceive Prince Mark?” asked Jaebum.

“That’s the problem, you see,” replied Jackson. He had initially been delighted that Mark had said he viewed Jackson as a friend but it brought a whole lot of other complications because in Jackson’s mind, being a friend and being a guard were polar opposites. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to react or respond to things. Should I be the silent guard in the background, only stepping forward when it is my duty or responding only when the prince addresses me directly? Or can I respond to things the prince says or even make comments of my own? Something as simple as finding something the prince said that was funny, am I allowed to smile or laugh because that is not one’s duty, isn’t it?” Jackson’s rambling continued with example after example for it seemed that once his worries finally had an outlet, he felt the need to air everything so that it could all be addressed. 

Jaebum listened intently, shifting through the rambling in order to determine the source of Jackson’s troubles. After Jackson talked himself into silence, ending with a “What do you think?”, Jaebum took a few moments to let Jackson calm down from the agitated state he had talked himself into.

“I do not think it wrong to want to be the Prince’s friend,” Jaebum told Jackson, “but only if it is what the Prince desires. I believe that as a guard, it is our duty to be whatever the Prince wants us to be, be it a distant soldier or a friend.”

“But, what if it’s both? Then how do you know?” asked Jackson. 

“Well, it would depend on the context, the situation,” mused Jaebum. “For instance, if you’re in public then reacting like a friend would not be appropriate, would it? But if it’s among people you know and trust, it would be fine?”

Jackson nodded glumly, “I thought so. It’s just, I find it hard to separate the two.”

“I noticed,” Jaebum commented slyly before giving Jackson a roguish grin. “You wear your heart on your sleeve and though it may be a good thing, it could bring about complications as well. You’ll just have to learn, that’s all. Just pretend you’re two different people: Jackson the guard and Jackson the friend. When there are others around, always behave like Jackson the guard. Simpler that way.”

“Thanks, Jaebum,” Jackson replied before heaving a sigh and leaning his back against the wall behind them to stare up at the night sky. “It may not seem like much to you but talking about this really helped.”

Jaebum responded by patting Jackson on the shoulder encouragingly. Dropping his hand to his lap, Jaebum took a large swig of beer and looked up as well. It was a clear night, the moon round and full. The two guards lapsed into comfortable silence, each drinking their beer leisurely and just enjoying the shared moment. Just as Jaebum was thinking about getting up and heading back to bed, Jackson’s voice cut through the night air.

“Why did you become a guard?”

Jaebum blinked a bit hazily as he tried to muster a response but it had been a question he had already debated with himself for a long time before committing to his current position. “It’s because I believe that his royal highness Prince Jinyoung will be a great king. The kingdom needs him.”

Jackson heard the trust and conviction in Jaebum’s voice. And Jackson marvelled at it. Sensing that Jaebum was going to ask him about his own reason, he hastily drank the last gulps of his beer and stood up with a loud grunt, stretching his arms above his head. 

“Thanks for the talk,” said Jackson, taking hold of Jaebum’s empty tankard as well. “You know, we should spar some time.”

“Ah, now that I’d look forward to,” Jaebum replied, eyes glinting with challenge.

“You sound confident,” Jackson commented and then winked, “maybe too confident.” 

“We shall see, shall we?” 

“Now that is a promise you will keep,” said Jackson with a laugh and soon, Jaebum laughed as well.

Wishing Jaebum good night, Jackson finally went to bed but right before he drifted off to sleep, he found himself thinking about Jaebum’s reason for becoming a guard. It was such a noble reason, one that spoke of concern and care for an entire kingdom as much as personal regard for the prince. Jackson’s own reason seemed so small and selfish in comparison that he had ended that topic of conversation so that he could escape. But, a small voice said, was his reason for being a guard any less worthy? 

_I like his smile._

 

* * *

 

From afar, Captain Paul watched as the men they had arrested were taken down into the dungeons for they villains had tried to attack the royal coach that had been on its way back from visiting one of the villages closer to their borders. He was relieved that they had managed to capture the men easily and had caused minimal distress to the royal family, or so Paul hoped. The looks on the king and queen’s faces as they alighted the coach seemed to have no trace of anxiousness but Paul knew better. The incident had shaken the King and the pale distraught face of the young Prince Mark made Paul determined to punish the offenders. Catching the King’s glance, Paul snapped his heels and bowed. The King murmured his thanks and ushered his family back into the castle.

Paul was making his way to the dungeons for interrogation when he felt a tug on his tunic. Glancing behind him, he saw no one until his eyes met Jackson’s when he looked down. The eight-year-old boy had a worried look on his face as his small hand continued to grasp the hem of Paul’s clothes. Smiling gently at the young boy, Paul asked, “What is it?” Paul always made time for Jackson because the lad held a very special place in Pauls’ heart.

The Captain had first come across Jackson when the boy was much younger. Paul and his troop had been riding back to the castle when they caught sight of an upturned coach. Nearing the scene, Paul felt his heart grow cold at the sight of a heavily injured man and woman lying on the ground with their belongings scattered across the road but what made his gall rise was the crying of a young boy. It was a sound Paul never forgot and never would. One glance told the Captain that the family were victims of looting and it had cost the boy’s parents their lives but the child had been left alive, a child who was crying desperately as he tugged at his mother’s lifeless arms. 

Dismounting from his horse, Paul approached the boy, calling to him before trying to pick him up. The boy had resisted, not wanting to leave his parent’s side for he did not understand that his parents would no longer wake up. Tears filling Paul’s eyes, he took the child with him and brought him back to the castle after instructing his men to ensure that boy’s parents were given a proper burial. Thus it was that Jackson, once he got the boy to tell him his name, was taken in by the servants. Perhaps it was that first horrible meeting that tied Paul to Jackson and the reason why the Captain was always kind to the lad.

“What is it, Jackson?” asked Paul, his hand moving to rest on the top of Jackson’s head.

“What happened to Prince Mark? Why does he look sick?” asked Jackson. Ah, thought Paul, the boy must have once more hidden himself from view to catch sight of the young Prince. Ever since the boy had turned seven, Jackson seemed to have developed a fascination with the Prince and had been discovered hiding around the castle multiple times by the servants. 

“Some bad people tried to hurt the prince and his family,” Paul answered, “but they’re fine now. Prince Mark is alright,” Paul assured Jackson. 

“Oh,” Jackson responded, followed by the emergence of such an adorable frown on the young face that Paul wanted to cuddle the boy. “Why do they want to hurt him?” Jackson asked.

Paul took a deep breath as he sank on one knee to be eye-level with Jackson. “Some people are just bad people. We don’t know why they want to hurt Prince Mark and his family. All we can do is to protect our beloved king, queen and prince.”

“That’s what you do, Captain Paul?” 

“Yes, Jackson. That’s what I do,” said Paul with a smile. 

“Then I want to do it too!” announced Jackson.

Paul could not help but chuckle, “But Jackson, you said you wanted to help train the birds, to look after them.”

“Can’t I do both?” Jackson asked with a slight pout because he did like watching birds. He loved how they hopped and flitted about but what he loved most was how they flew. 

“No, Jackson you can’t,” Paul said gently shaking his head, “It’s either the birds or the prince.”

“Then… I choose the prince,” said Jackson decidedly, his frown disappearing after only a moment’s hesitation.

“Really? Why? You’ve always liked birds.”

“But I like the prince more,” Jackson answered. “I like his smile.”

 

* * *

 

“Tell me, Jaebum, is Jackson the one?” Jinyoung asked his guard on lieu to dinner from the library where Jinyoung had been reading the afternoon away. 

“Perhaps, your highness. I will have to challenge him properly before I make my decision,” Jaebum replied.

“Oh,” Jinyoung said, glancing over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow at his guard, “I thought you’ve sparred multiple times already.”

“Yes, your highness. But it was playful sparring. Doesn’t really tell me much about Jackson’s capability.”

“Hmm,” mused Jinyoung as they reached the corridor that led to the dining hall just in time to catch Mark and Jackson entering the aforementioned chamber, with Jackson flashing them a quick grin. “Would a duel be enough for you to evaluate Jackson’s potential?”

“That would do nicely, your highness,” came Jaebum’s reply. Jinyoung could hear the grin in Jaebum’s voice as there was nothing that excited his guard more than a chance to test his prowess. 

“Very well,” Jinyoung told Jaebum right before they entered the chamber and Jinyoung had to greet the king and queen.

At dinner, Jinyoung waited until the complementary enquiries about his day and their plans were over and done with before steering the conversation towards his desired topic. Addressing Mark, Jinyoung commented, “Jaebum tells me that Jackson is quite good in archery,” which attracted both Mark and Jackson’s attention. 

“He is,” said Mark replied albeit hesitantly. At Mark’s words, Jackson had to bite his cheek to stop himself from grinning. Sneaking a look at Jaebum, he saw the more experienced guard press his lips harder together as well because he had guessed accurately how Jackson would react. 

“I was wondering, your majesty,” said Jinyoung to King Raymond, “if it would be permissible for me to suggest a duel between our royal guards? You have all been such extremely gracious hosts, especially Mark, that I have enjoyed myself ever since I arrived but I fear my guard may be restless. You see, he’s used to training every day and has been deprived of that for the past weeks. Moreover, I also think it would be interesting to see how they fare with their different experiences and training. What say you, your majesty?”

As Jackson listened to the visiting prince’s suggestion, Jackson abandoned all pretence and tried to catch Jaebum’s eye. It sounded like fun to Jackson and although he and Jaebum had sparred a few times, Jackson always sensed that Jaebum had been holding back. Now with a duel, there was every reason to give it their all and Jackson relished the idea of testing his mettle against another. As a squire, he had trained to be one of the best and now, he would get to challenge someone else who had also been accorded to same honour of being a guard and most of all, it was someone whom Jackson respected and liked.

Jaebum, in turn, broke his usual stoic persona to smile at Jackson. He too was looking forward to a duel especially since their playful sparring had indicated that Jackson was more than a worthy opponent. 

“That sounds like an interesting idea, Jinyoung,” replied King Raymond who then turned to his son. “What say you, Mark, it’ll be your guard participating after all.”

Mark had been watching the exchanged grins and silent communication between Jackson and Jaebum so when his father had asked him, he was about to turn back and reply but not before Jackson looked at Mark and had nodded his head so enthusiastically that the guard reminded the prince of a jack-in-a-box. Odd how both had the name ‘jack’. 

“If Jackson is agreeable,” Mark began to say, glancing again at Jackson who was now grinning from ear to ear, “I leave the choice to him.”

At this, the King called, “Jackson.” Jackson immediately left his position and marched around the dining table to face the King, “Your majesty.” 

“I trust you’ve heard our conversation.”

“Yes, your majesty,” quipped Jackson who couldn’t really hide the excitement on his face. 

“So what say you?”

“I accept the challenge, your majesty” announced Jackson proudly. It would be his first official duel and his opponent was Jaebum. What more could he ask for?

“It’s done. We shall set a date and inform you. Be prepared and do not let our kingdom down, Jackson.”

“No, your majesty. Absolutely not, your majesty.” Taking a step back, Jackson bowed and marched back to assume his position but he did not bother wiping the grin from his face, a grin that Jaebum returned in full. 

Right before dinner ended, Jackson slid up next to Jaebum and murmured, “May the best guard win,” while holding out his hand to Jaebum. Jaebum grasped it with force and murmured in reply, “For both our honours.”

 

* * *

 

The day of the duel had arrived. The large banquet hall had been rearranged so that there was a roped off square in the middle of the chamber while tables were arranged on either side for any nobility or those of upper social classes who wished to attend while a throne was added on the platform for the visiting prince. What had started out as something fun had become an attraction for it had been quite a while since such an event of the sort had taken place in the castle.

Jackson was in one of the antechambers, flexing his body and stretching to loosen his muscles. This was more nerve-racking than the selection for the royal guard and that had been the only other situation he had ever found himself in competition with other individuals. Facing a duel with Jaebum had to be one of the most exciting things he had ever done. In fact, he hadn’t been able to sleep the night before and had spent his time polishing his sword and armour, he would only be wearing the chainmail under a leather vest, to ensure that they were fully functional. Not only that, he had spent days training seriously ever since the announcement was made during dinner. 

As a result, Mark hadn’t seen Jackson much for his guard had excused himself from his duties to prepare for the duel. The prince knew how much this meant to Jackson and wanted to make an effort to encourage his guard which was why he made it a point to visit Jackson who was alone in the antechamber.

Jackson had looked up when the door opened, half panicking as his nerves spiked because it wasn’t time yet! His surprised eyes blinked in relief when he realised it was the prince. Snapping his ankles together, he bowed in greeting as Mark walked up to Jackson. 

“How are you feeling?” asked Mark, studying Jackson’s face.

“Nervous, your royal highness,” admitted Jackson, meeting Mark’s gaze with a weak chuckle, “ever so nervous.” 

“Because you’re worried about facing Jaebum?” 

“No, your highness. I’m truthfully eager to duel with him. He’s a formidable opponent. It’s just…” Jackson’s voice trailed off as he looked down and off to the side, breaking eye contact with the prince. 

“What is it?” Mark asked, resisting the urge to dip his head to chase Jackson’s gaze. It was something no royal could ever do and Mark was about as royal as could be yet because he hadn’t seen Jackson in a while, he wanted to look at Jackson a little longer. 

“It’s...,” gulped Jackson, “your royal highness, if – if I don’t win, would you be disappointed with me?” Jackson asked in a hushed voice, eyes darting between Mark and the table where his sword lay, gleaming in the sunlight that streamed in through the narrow window. 

“Disappointed?” echoed Mark. 

“Because I’m not really duelling for myself, am I? I’m fighting as a representative of the royal guard, your guard. Which means I’m fighting for your honour as well, aren’t I?” rambled Jackson nervously, his anxiety kicking in.

“Jackson,” said Mark, successfully stemming Jackson’s words, “I will be disappointed only if you did not give your best.” Smiling as his eyes searched Jackson’s to make sure that his guard was listening to his words, he continued, “If you have given your best, regardless of the outcome, know that I am proud of you.”

Jackson was rendered speechless. Not for the first time, Mark’s words filled both Jackson’s heart and mind to bursting, to such an extent that he could not hope to be able to speak or express himself with any form of coherence so Jackson kept silent. It was not just the choice of words but the sincerity that was embedded in the way Mark spoke. Holding Mark’s gaze, Jackson knew that Mark meant every single thing he said and all Jackson could do was smile in return. It was a smile that Mark delighted in because he knew that it was a smile no one other than himself had seen. 

“Do not fight in fear of losing, Jackson,” said Mark as he lifted a hand to rest in on Jackson’s shoulder. It felt right, to hell with decorum and etiquette, his hand on Jackson’s shoulder felt as if it belonged and though Mark did not know, the same thought echoed in Jackson’s mind. The light pressure the prince applied through his hand lifted Jackson’s spirit as if all heaviness and anxiety were removed by Mark’s mere touch. 

“Fight a fight that will make you proud of your efforts no matter the result.”

Jackson pressed his lips together as he felt moisture gather in the corners of his eyes. Goodness, why was he getting emotional over the prince’s words? No matter how gentle, proud and sincere the prince was, no matter how unbelievably touched he was, surely tears were not necessary. It’s just… rare, very rare that anyone directed such words to Jackson who realised then that he craved approval and it was the prince’s approval which towered above all else. 

When Mark lifted his hand from Jackson’s shoulder, the guard felt an instant sense of loss but the flicker of disappointment morphed into curiosity as Mark had slipped his hand into a pocket of his robe to take out a slim ribbon of deep blue but edged with shining threads of gold. 

“It is customary before a duel for a knight to receive a token of favour from a lady and since there are none,” and neither would Mark entertain the idea of any lady doing this no matter of high or low station (but this strange pettiness was food for thought for another day), “please receive this ribbon as a token for success.”

Jackson could only blink rapidly for against his will, he could feel the moisture in his eyes increasing in volume, “Your royal highness,” he croaked, trying to clear his throat to regain some measure of drawing breath.

Mark’s warm smile remained steadfast as he took hold of Jackson’s wrist with his left hand, held it at mid-chest and proceeded to tie the ribbon around Jackson’s wrist just where Jackson’s glove ended. The prince then tucked the ribbon out of sight and because Jackson still seemed immobilised, it was Mark who lowered Jackson’s hand. 

“Fight to make yourself proud,” Mark reminded Jackson just before Yugyeom knocked on the door to announce that it was time for the prince to take his seat. 

“I will, your royal highness,” Jackson managed to call out before Mark left the room with one last glance at his guard. Alone again, Jackson sank into a chair. What had just happened? In a daze, he raised his wrist to his eyes, tracing the hints of blue peeking out from under his glove. It was the only sign that what had occurred between the prince and him was not a figment of his imagination. It had been real. The words had been real. The prince’s touch had been real. The fingers of his left hand hovered slowly towards his right wrist, wanting to touch the slim piece of fabric while his eyes stayed transfixed on it, as if keeping it in sight would keep it from disappearing. 

“Jackson,” Yugyeom’s voice called out, “it’s time to enter the hall.”

Shaken out of his daze, Jackson rose to his feet. As he grasped his sword and picked up his shield, he swore to live out his prince’s words – to fight for honour but not his own, he found no pride in doing that, but for the prince for that was where Jackson’s pride lay.

Stepping through the ropes into the square, Jackson stood next to Jaebum who had already entered the arena earlier. Both bowed to the royalty sitting on thrones in front of them and when both guards rose, their eyes met those of their respective princes, each communicating silent wishes of good fortune before the guards turned to look at each other. 

“On guard,” Jackson said, determination and eagerness etched in every line of his face. 

“On guard,” replied Jaebum, sword in one hand and a weapon Jackson had not seen before in the other. It was sharp and pointed but only half the length of a normal sword yet it had a wide hilt. What was it and how would it be used? Well, Jackson thought wryly, no time like the present to find out. 

Both swords raised and descended with a loud clang.

The duel had begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this chapter feels jumbled with little flow. i just wanted to squeeze some stuff in here cause there'll be no space for them later. 
> 
> like i really felt i wanted to include why jackson wants to protect mark so badly and a little bit about his background as well. 
> 
> as always, i love reading comments, do let me know what you think about this chapter :D


	7. To practise courtesy p.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the result of the duel, a mystery and tons of jealousy

The audience looked on with bated breath, gasping whenever the grating sound of clashing metal echoed in the large hall or when either of the men on whom all attention was focused on initiated an attack. To onlookers untrained in combat, the two looked to be evenly matched but to those who knew how to gage the strength contained in each swing of the sword, took note of footing and posture and could tell how easy or difficult it was to draw breath for the next move, there was a difference between the two.

Jackson had arguably more strength and precision in his attacks and certainly quicker reflexes but his opponent, Jaebum, was the more seasoned fighter. Those who fought knew that strength and speed only count for half of a battle. The other half was experience, the know-how to conserve energy and minimise unnecessary movement. It was this that had kept Jaebum toe to toe with Jackson and Jaebum could see that his opponent was tiring. Still, Jackson’s strength and endurance was remarkable and had they been evenly matched in terms of weaponry and experience, the duel might have turned out differently.

Another clash of sword on sword and the two guards were again eye to eye, glaring at each other through the cross of their blades as they searched once again for an opening, a momentary lapse of strength in order to disarm the other for that was how to win the duel – to disarm their opponent. Jackson grit his teeth as he put all his energy in an attempt to bring Jaebum’s sword down. He anchored his feet as best as he could on the smooth stone of the floor and gave another push. 

With a grunt, Jaebum’s sword fell as Jackson wished but instead of allowing his sword to be wrenched from his grasp, Jaebum deflected the momentum of Jackson’s swing with the use of his shorter blade once again. It was a weapon Jackson had never encountered before and that half-sword had repeatedly and successfully thwarted his most practiced attacks. It had a great advantage over the shield Jackson was using for unlike a shield, that shorter blade was able to block and control the direction to which the opponent’s sword would be thrown. Hence, it handed Jaebum the upper hand because he knew where Jackson’s body would most likely be diverted to after each failed lunge. It was truly thanks to Jackson’s reflexes that he had been able to dodge Jaebum’s counterattacks.

Stepping backwards only to circle each other at a distance again, both men fought to draw breath. Jackson didn’t know how long he had been duelling but never in his life had he faced an opponent like Jaebum. He kept his eyes focused on the other, watching for any sign of an impending attack. Jackson had decided since his attacks were always deflected, he’d wait for Jaebum to make the move this time. At least Jackson had the satisfaction of seeing Jaebum’s hair matted against his forehead with sweat, droplets leaving glistening trails on his face and neck – just like his own. 

While King Raymond was enjoying the duel, cheering slightly when things got exciting, Mark sat unmoving on his throne but if anyone could see beneath his heavy and elaborately woven cloak, Mark’s fingers gave away his anxiety. He was gripping the edge of the cushion beneath him, nails digging into the fabric, fist clenching hard enough to turn his knuckles white every time Jaebum swung his sword at Jackson. But always, always Jackson managed to defend himself. Not that it helped calm Mark’s nerves. The two guards were really giving it their all and part of him wanted to stop the duel before anyone got hurt but he knew that neither guard would have it. They would fight until there was a winner. If Mark had learned anything about Jackson it was that Jackson valued his pride and honour above everything so Mark bit back the order to end the duel and watched, helpless.

Little did Mark know, Jinyoung, who sat on the other side of the platform, was going through the same emotional turmoil. Never had Jinyoung seen Jaebum being matched so evenly. All the duels he had been in would have ended a while ago but this one was carrying on longer than either of them had expected. Still, it meant that they’ve found the one they were looking for. Jackson would be a great addition. His eyes watched Jaebum’s expression carefully. He noticed the instant his guard’s gaze hardened with an added clench of his jaw and Jinyoung drew an instinctive breath just as Jaebum rushed forwards on nimble feet.

Jackson ducked his chin ever so slightly to inject strength into his back and legs in order to cushion the impact the moment Jaebum rushed at him. He righted his grip on his sword and prepared to block with his shield. A dull clunk as well as the force of Jaebum’s swing made Jackson’s knees bend. Goodness, the guard packed muscle, but there was no time to think. Jackson used his shield to push Jaebum’s sword away and swung his own at his opponent – only to be countered once again by the half-sword. If it had been a shield, Jackson would be able to respond. But because this was a blade that could attack even if it was half the length of the usual sword, the way he had trained to fight was ineffective.

Biting back a grunt of frustration, Jackson leapt back when he noticed Jaebum bring his other sword up again. Jackson was breathing hard. So was Jaebum. There was no pretence anymore, both of them knew the other was close to their limits. The question was who would fold first. 

As if he had made a final resolution, Jaebum suddenly rose from his stance and stood straight and tall while he lowered both his hands. Jackson’s eyebrows furrowed for Jaebum was basically standing defenceless. Tilting his head to one side, Jackson followed suit and stood up as well, lowering his own weapons only after a moment’s hesitation. It could have been a ploy to catch him off guard for Jaebum could be acting to deceive but Jackson trusted him. The other guard would never act dishonourably for he knew that they both believed in the same code of chivalry. Still… why now? What did Jaebum want?

“It’s been a good fight,” commented Jaebum, a lop-sided smirk etched on his lips. “You’re a good fighter.”

“I’d say the same for you” replied Jackson and then added, “maybe” with a fleeting grin. It actually made Jaebum want to chuckle and he did. The other’s playfulness was something that he found himself illogically drawn to. If it had been anyone else, Jaebum would have felt the need to correct and discipline but with Jackson? Jaebum just knew there was no ill-intent or malice. It was almost an instinctive understanding that Jaebum could not very well name. 

When Jaebum didn’t say anything but laugh, Jackson couldn’t help asking “And?” Because surely stopping in the midst of a duel was not part of the rules. 

“And,” echoed Jaebum, the smirk now morphing into a genuine smile. “I propose we do this. One more attack and we decide who wins this duel.”

“One more? Just one?” asked Jackson, half in surprise while the other half of him contemplated the idea.

“Yes. We’re both well-matched. We’ve both fought well and honourably,” Jaebum explained, “so let’s end this. Like knights.” Jaebum said the last word with a sense of pride. They were both just guards at the moment but in future, they would be full-fledged knights who would bring glory and honour to their respective kingdoms. 

Jackson could not hide his excitement at the prospect. “Like knights?” mused Jackson. Knights. A full-fledged knight! A knight like Captain Paul, a knight who dedicated his life in service to the king and Mark would be his King. Jackson’s eyes left his opponent and darted over to his prince who sat so regally on his throne. Their eyes made contact and though they were quite a distance apart, Jackson’s eyes searched his prince’s face. It was as if Jackson could see it already. The princely crown Mark wore would be replaced by the one King Raymond now had. It was heavier for certain but Mark would bear that weight admirably. Mark’s face would also be more lined, older, wiser. His worries and care for the kingdom and his people would be etched into his features. Would he look as fair when he is king as he was now? Would he rule in peace with the lands around him? Would he be lauded as a great example of a king and be regarded as one other future kings could only hope to reflect? And… would he be able to help Mark become the King he could be? Would Jackson be able to be Mark’s knight?

Mark’s own thoughts at the moment were quite different. All his focus was on Jackson. When Jaebum had stood up and Jackson followed suit, Mark’s anxiety became tinged with apprehension. What was going on? And then when Jackson looked over to him, Mark could not help but meet his eyes. Jackson’s eyes were searching but for what Mark had no idea. All he could see just then was the rise and fall of Jackson’s chest and shoulders as he breathed hard, tired from the fight. Mark wanted it to end so that Jackson could rest. Yes, it would be nice if Jackson won but Mark honestly did not care for the outcome. Jackson had fought bravely and all he wanted right then was for Jackson to be safe. Not knowing what to do, Mark just gave a slight nod. He had no clue what he was affirming but he saw the way Jackson’s eyes sparkled despite his weary state. Jackson gave a bow to Mark in return, lowering his head and upper body which displeased the prince for it meant that Jackson’s face would be out of sight, hidden. It was only for a moment but still, Mark had wanted to watch the sparkle longer. When Jackson rose, there was resolution on the guard’s face and after only a brief moment of looking at Mark, Jackson turned back to face Jaebum.

“Like knights,” agreed Jackson. He placed his shield on the ground.

Jaebum grinned, nodded and signalled for a page to come and take his half-sword away. 

There they stood, each armed only with their sword. Both hunched into attacking stances but waited. There was no need for a countdown in the now silent hall. No unnecessary three-two-ones. Jaebum and Jackson just watched each other as everyone held their breath. Then, without a word or sign, both guards lunged and their swords met again with an almighty clash that made those watching shudder. Again, after many many times, the guards tested their remaining strength. Jackson began to lean into Jaebum, signalling that he was beginning to have the upper hand but Jaebum clenched his teeth into a snarl as his eyes narrowed in concentration. Jaebum pushed back and Jackson responded using his lower body strength. Their arms were shaking by now, trembling with the force they exerted on the polished metal blades. All of a sudden, Jackson felt Jaebum’s blade give just a little and Jackson instantly intensified his exertion. He could win this! Jaebum’s blade was falling!  
Jaebum’s expression showed it, it showed a flicker of dread and Jackson was sure he would win but then Jaebum’s wrist twisted his blade which caused Jackson’s sword to slip especially with the sudden force the younger guard had used. Jackson realised belatedly that it was a feint! With a loud grunt, Jaebum used the inertia to hitch his grip on the handle of his sword and shoved the hilt exactly where Jackson’s grip was. Jackson gasped as he felt his sword torn from his grasp and watched breathlessly as the blade sliced through the air to land with a loud clank on the stone floor. It skittered a little but finally came to a rest. And with it, Jackson exhaled. 

It was over.

He lost.

Was he upset that he lost? Of course. Was he disappointed? No, he was not. Not when he had given it his all and fought to the best of his ability. And to have lasted so long against Jaebum – that was something Jackson was really proud of. True to nature, Jackson blinked to tear his gaze away from where his sword lay, extended his hand to Jaebum and looked the victor in the eyes. 

“Congratulations,” said Jackson with a sincere smile and it was truly well-deserved. 

Jaebum grasped Jackson’s hand in a firm grip. “You almost had me. It was really close.”

Jackson’s smile turned into a blinding grin. “Ah, that coming from you is praise indeed, Jaebum.” He was about to drop his hand and walk away as the King had risen to declare the end of the duel so he wasn’t prepared when Jaebum tugged on his hand to pull him into a quick but firm hug with one arm slung around the back of Jackson’s shoulders. 

“I mean it,” Jaebum whispered into Jackson’s ear, “you are a good fighter.” Jaebum was so close that his lips brushed Jackson’s ear, the other guard’s breath hot against his skin. “We’ll work well together,” Jaebum added before promptly releasing him but Jackson didn’t move. He was stunned by the sudden praise and Jaebum’s words. Work together? He had talked to Jaebum for quite a bit but the other had never demonstrated much sign that he regarded Jackson as more than just a friendly acquaintance or given any hint that there was something ‘together’. Blinking, he parted his lips to express his surprise but King Raymond had called the victor forward. Hastily, Jackson resumed his ceremonial place but the moment lingered on Jackson’s mind. Something in how Jaebum regarded him had changed but Jackson had no idea what or why. Plus, what was this suggestion? What did Jaebum’s words mean?

Of course, Mark and Jinyoung had watched the exchange between their guards very closely. Obviously, their whispers were unheard due to the distance as well as general noise of the excited crowd, some of whom were going through memorable moments of the duel with animated gestures. While Jinyoung had a knowing smile on his lips, Mark could barely keep a frown from showing. It was Jinyoung’s smile that made Mark suspicious. Something else was happening here but what was it? Still, Mark kept his face void of any emotion but polite interest as Jaebum was announced the victor amidst the crowd’s cheers with his father’s words of praise of how the battle was well fought. Though Mark had to keep his gaze supposedly focused on Jaebum, he angled his head so that he could keep Jackson in the periphery of his vision. Jackson was standing off to the side, next to a squire who now held Jackson’s sword and shield. From what Mark could see, Jackson was confused and Jackson being confused made Mark even more suspicious. What was going on?

Mark never found out. When he questioned Jackson a day or two after the duel had taken place, Jackson couldn’t give him any answers because the guard too did not know what had happened (Jackson kept Jaebum’s words to himself) or why Jinyoung and his guard had subsequently had many private councils with Mark’s father. Though Mark was involved in meetings that dealt predominantly with the ruffians, there were times Jinyoung would approach his father and ask for a word in private. The first time Jinyoung had done so, Mark made to stay but the visiting prince had politely explained that this was a matter between King Raymond and his own father and that Jinyoung was merely acting as a messenger. So Mark had left the room reluctantly. What were they talking about that was so secretive? Perhaps it was also Mark’s imagination that he thought their whispered discussions mentioned Jackson. Still, Mark knew better than to ask especially with the stern look his father had given him the one time he had alluded to the issue. Mark could see that it was something that worried his father but until his father was ready to tell him, Mark would wait. 

Perhaps his father would tell him once Jinyoung left as his visit was drawing to a close. Finally. It had been a long month. 

 

* * *

 

As a way to end Jinyoung’s visit aside from the customary banquet, Mark had arranged for a private hunting party consisting of only four individuals – the two princes and their two guards. No pages, no servants, no entourage. It had not been private at first because it was meant to be a full blown affair with a pack of hounds and herd of horses but Jinyoung had suggested that it be scaled down and Mark could easily see why. There would be far less formality and since they had an odd dynamic worked out between them, the group of four would do just fine. As much as Mark still did not think of Jinyoung as a friend, and truth be told neither did Jinyoung, they had reached a particular level of comfort with each other. At least, Mark did not find himself as irritated by Jinyoung these days… except when it came to one individual. 

Mark glanced over his shoulder at Jackson as they rode across the fields to get to the forest that had been secured for their hunting session. The guard caught the Prince’s eye and gave the royal a wide grin that turned mischievous in an instant. Without further ado, Jackson gave the black mare he was riding a nudge with his ankles and off they shot, overtaking Mark on his white stallion. Mark was startled for he had not expected Jackson to react like this. If there had been others around, Mark knew Jackson would have made sure to keep behind him as decorum dictated but since there was on one else except Jinyoung and Jaebum, Jackson seemed far more at ease and had dropped his guard persona. Mark liked it. A lot. 

Initially caught by surprise as his guard surged forward with Jackson’s loud high-pitched laugh echoing in his ears, it only took Mark a moment to respond. Clicking his tongue, he used his ankles to urge his steed to pick up the pace and leaned forward to give chase. Hooves pounded as they flew across the grassy fields. Mark soon caught up and he called to his guard as the wind whipped through his hair, the fresh air filling his lungs with a sense of light-heartedness that he rarely felt within the castle. 

“Think you can win?” Mark asked Jackson with a carefree grin, voice raised to be heard over the rushing wind.

“Is that a challenge?” replied Jackson with too much candour that anyone would have used to address royalty. Jackson wiggled his eyebrows teasingly and his grin never left his lips. A few months ago, Jackson would have never dreamed of being able to speak casually like this with the Prince. There had always been that barrier of social hierarchy between them and it was such a titan that Jackson could not even address the Prince as just Mark in his thoughts. Mark had always been ‘his royal highness’ even in Jackson’s head. Now, however, the situation was different. 

“Shall we hedge a bet?” Mark asked right after letting out a guffaw of laughter at Jackson’s reply. He liked this banter. It was different! It was free from the chains of decorum. It was them.

“Victor gets a wish,” Jackson suggested before adding, “any wish!” 

“Done!” agreed Mark. “To that tree!” Mark gestured with an incline of his head before he took a tighter hold of his reins and spurred his stallion on. 

“Hee-yah,” cried Jackson to his own horse. 

The prince and guard raced across the fields to the finishing point at breakneck pace. It was dangerous and Jackson, in his right mind, would have stopped and not egged Mark on but they were caught up in the spirit of youthful recklessness. They were often so confined to their social roles that the experience of escaping it all was exhilarating. Mark was a little ahead but Jackson was determined to win. It was more for the thrill of competition than the prize and Jackson hunkered further down into his saddle, urging his mare to go as fast as it could. He was gaining, soon they were neck and neck. Not even sparing his prince a glance, Jackson kept his focus and eyes entirely on the terrain ahead of them. As Mark clearly had the faster horse, Jackson needed to do all he could to guide his own along the most stable path, avoiding as much uneven ground as far as possible. Gritting his teeth, Jackson held his breath as they neared the aforementioned tree. Only a little more. And, with a final burst of speed, Jackson won!

“YEAH!” howled Jackson in victory, throwing his clenched fist high in the air as Mark passed him in a blur before both their horses slowed down to a canter. 

“YES! YES! YES!” Jackson continued to shout in whoops of excitement. 

Mark had never seen his guard this excited before and though he had lost, Jackson’s joy was contagious. Jackson’s smile was the widest Mark had ever seen, his eyes the brightest they had ever shone and Mark was the only one Jackson was looking at, every feature of his face brimming with that spark that only Jackson had. 

“You won,” was Mark’s simple comment once he had shaken himself out of moments of stunned admiration. With a smile, Mark brought his horse along Jackson’s as they continued the rest of the short distance that was left at a languid pace for their horses to recover. 

“So what is your wish?”

“My wish?” echoed Jackson, blinking in confusion before he remembered that they had made a bet.

“You suggested it,” Mark laughed, “don’t tell me that you forgot.”

“I did,” Jackson confessed with a laugh as well. “Entirely.”

“Ah, I should not have reminded you then,” replied Mark with feigned regret but the twinkle in his eye told Jackson that Mark felt no such thing. 

“You shouldn’t have,” teased Jackson, “I might take advantage of it.”

Mark froze, startled at Jackson’s reply. He was sure that Jackson had no inkling of what he felt in response to Jackson’s words or the ideas that flitted rapidly through his mind, each more insane than the last. It was an unsettling feeling – confusion, hope, worry, excitement, even a tiny bit of dread – it all combined to make Mark’s gut twist at the idea that Jackson would, for once, be the one who had the power to make decisions. It was certainly a change but was it pleasant? Or was it perverse? Did Mark want it to change? Swarmed by thoughts not least because he could not believe that he was actually anticipating Jackson taking ‘advantage’, Mark kept silent and Jackson, who had seemed to get better and better at reading Mark’s moods after he became the prince’s guard, felt the awkwardness. 

Clearing his throat, Jackson spoke up to break the silence. “Please don’t worry, your highness. I didn’t mean what I said.”

Mark glanced at Jackson who did really seem sorry for what the guard must have deemed to be a thoughtless reply. Shaking his head slightly, Mark signalled that he had not taken any offense but the prince couldn’t think of what to say, not when the feeling in his gut was now tinged with slight disappointment. Heavens, what was going on?

Jackson bit his lower lip as he observed Mark’s silence. This was a confused, preoccupied silence. Whatever Mark was thinking of seemed to be bothering him and Jackson was mentally kicking himself for being the cause of it. He never wanted to cause the prince any trouble or discomfort. What an idiot he had been. He spoke up but he did not really have anything to say. He just wanted to break through Mark’s reverie. 

“Your highness, I-”

“Mark! Jackson!” came Jinyoung’s voice as the other pair drew closer. It wasn’t the first time that day that Jinyoung had called their names but of course, they hadn’t heard him over the thunder of their horses’ hooves and wind in their ears. Instead, Jinyoung and Jaebum had been left far behind because of the unexpected race and only now caught up just as they reached the place to tether their horses. Being ignored left Jinyoung feeling a tad petulant because, well, because he wasn’t used to being ignored.

“A bit too eager, aren’t we?” Jinyoung commented in a huff as Jaebum, who had already dismounted, held out a hand to assist Jinyoung just in case. Jinyoung didn’t take his guard’s hand and swung himself off his horse with an easy and natural grace, feet landing nimbly on the ground. Jaebum did not react to the refusal at all, taking the reins of his prince’s horse instead in order to lead it towards a shadier patch of grass. He was used to his prince’s moods for they were varied and often underwent sudden changes. 

Mark, who had also dismounted, was feeling quite relieved that Jinyoung and Jaebum were there. At least their presence helped Mark push the unsettling feelings out of his consciousness for the time being. He was about to respond to Jinyoung’s complaint with a polite but thinly veiled sarcastic comment before Jackson spoke up. “Prince Jinyoung, it was my fault entirely. I do apologise,” said Jackson, stepping closer to the visiting prince in order to accompany his apology with a polite bow. 

Jinyoung blinked, sidestepped by Jackson’s sudden apology. He hadn’t wanted one and Mark knew that. Jackson, Jinyoung guessed, did not and Jinyoung wasn’t surprised. He had barely known the guard for a month and he could count on his fingers the times that they had shared a conversation that had gone beyond the usual polite banter. A tad nonplussed about how to respond and even feeling slightly uncomfortable that he had essentially forced Jackson to apologise for no reason, Jinyoung cleared his throat lightly and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. 

“Shall we begin the hunt?” Jinyoung suggested as a way to overcome the odd atmosphere. 

“Certainly,” Mark replied, his old rivalry with Jinyoung successful in casting Mark’s previous emotional conflict into shadow. “Let’s see whose game graces the royal table this evening,” Mark put forth as a challenge before letting Jinyoung choose which side of the forest he wanted and Mark graciously took the other. 

 

* * *

 

Three rabbits, one hare and two pheasants later, Mark and Jackson were sitting by the riverbank to enjoy the sunshine as they waited for Jinyoung and Jaebum to come back. Truth be told, Mark had had enough of hunting. He wasn’t much for the sport for he never could kill for enjoyment. There was something about his arrow drawing blood that still made him uneasy no matter how many people tried to persuade him that it was a gentleman’s sport. That was why he had hunted rabbits that were considered pests for gardeners as well as pheasants who were breed for the hunt. He had taken care not to kill any of those that belonged in the wild. Of course, he understood that some had to kill to eat and necessarily so. They needed to sustain themselves and others for a living. For Mark, however, there was a ready supply of game meat for the palace kitchens so he saw not the need. 

Also, he just wanted to enjoy the time outside the palace away from ever-watchful eyes wherever he went. And to have no one other than Jackson for company made it even more precious so he’d rather rest on the river bank than stalk through the forest’s undergrowth. Sighing, Mark stretched his legs on the grass and promptly laid down, eyes closed to enjoy the sun’s rays on his face. 

Jackson, who was sitting an arm’s length away from Mark, tried to maintain some sort of awareness as the prince’s guard. They were out in the open and though the forest had been secured with other guards stationed at its periphery to prevent strangers from entering it, Jackson knew it was his duty to remain alert. Jaebum, for one, would probably smack him on the head for being relaxed. But… it was hard to keep his attention on his surroundings. While he could have admired the way sunlight rippled on the river’s current or followed the gentle sway of branches and leaves in the breeze, his attention was drawn exclusively to the man lying next to him. He rarely had the chance to watch Mark so closely. True, he accompanied the prince most of the time but he was always standing behind Mark or he would be stationed outside a room while Mark was within it. Thus, being able to let his eyes linger on the handsome face of his prince was an opportunity he could not resist. He was helplessly transfixed as he studied his prince’s features – the gentle slope of the prince’s nose, the unmarred brow, the dark eyelashes complemented by high cheekbones, the sharp yet firm jaw that told of the prince’s character – Jackson found it hard to believe that someone could have been born so fair. It was no wonder the ladies of their kingdom envied the prince. 

Mark knew that Jackson was staring. He could feel it but he controlled his expression. Nothing showed that he was aware of it, nothing showed that he was curious about Jackson’s expression as the guard watched him though Mark truly wanted to know, but most of all, nothing showed that he was basking in the reality of being Jackson’s sole focus. If Jackson wanted to look at him, then let him look. It did no harm to Mark at all. After all, others have had the chance to study his face such as the painters who painted his yearly portrait as well as some ladies of the court who made no secret of their infatuation. Why not Jackson then? Content with that, Mark let the silence between them wear on and if not for Mark’s training as the kingdom’s heir, he would not have been able to withstand it. The only sign that gave him away was the faintest blush of pale rose pink that was beginning to colour his cheeks. 

Jackson had not moved, stopping himself from inching ever just a little closer to the prince. An arm’s length was the fitful distance between them. It will always be that way but bless his sense of sight that allowed him to overcome that separation. After what seemed like suspended moments in time, Jackson’s eyes caught some movement a little behind them. He tore his gaze away from his prince and saw that Prince Jinyoung and Jaebum had arrived, the guard proudly carrying a full-grown deer in a sack. 

“Your highness, Prince Jinyoung is here,” Jackson informed Mark.

Mark finally opened his eyes and sat up with a sigh. The world was not just the two of them anymore. “A deer, Jinyoung? You win then,” Mark pronounced, not at all begrudgingly. 

“Well-deserved, don’t you think?” replied Jinyoung, unable to mask the hint of pride in his voice because it was one of his most accomplished solo hunts. 

“Yes, Jinyoung, very well-deserved,” said Mark, a small smile forming because Jinyoung was allowing his real self to peer through – the self that showed what Jinyoung actually thought and felt. Too often Jinyoung hid everything behind a persona but with this visit, Mark was beginning to see and accept who Jinyoung was and Jinyoung was beginning to see Mark in the same way. 

The visiting prince approached the two who were still seated on the grassy bank and sat down next to Mark while Jaebum went to store the kill in a secure place. Jinyoung sat on a piece of rug he had brought with him for though Mark might not mind grass stains but Jinyoung did. Conversation followed regarding their hunting experiences and when Jaebum was back, he took his place next to his prince. Like Jackson, Jaebum sat at an arm’s length away with eyes scanning their surroundings.

Jackson caught the visiting guard’s gaze, however, and they communicated for a bit through sign language and facial expressions which was something that tickled Jackson. When they had first met, Jackson would never have guessed that Jaebum was so expressive. The various degrees of Jaebum’s smile were incredibly interesting. It could range from a cold, disdainful smirk, not unlike those that had been directed at Jackson during the first few times they met, to ones that were so wide, it looked as if Jaebum’s jaw had dislocated. After using gestures to ask Jaebum if he would like to spar, to which Jaebum agreed wordlessly, Jackson requested permission.

“Your highness, may I spar with Jaebum?”

“Of course, Jackson,” came Mark’s automatic reply even if it had come as a surprise. He thought Jackson would have been content to remain by his side like always… Or was that not enough anymore…

“Thank you, your highness,” Jackson answered with a happy smile before scrambling to his feet while Jaebum got up to get their weapons. Soon, Jaebum was teaching Jackson how to use that half-sword. A parrying sword, it was called.

“You’ll likely fight better using this,” Jaebum commented as Jackson practised a basic move. “You’re more an attacker than a defender.”

“What?”

“I meant that your skills and nature are more inclined to attack. A shield would not do you justice. I could teach you more if you’d like,” offered Jaebum who stepped closer to Jackson, taking the younger guard’s wrist in order to correct Jackson’s grip on the sword.

“Really?” chirped Jackson, excited at the prospect of mastering the use another weapon. As quickly as his excitement rose, however, it soon fell and it showed on the young guard’s face. “But you’re leaving day after tomorrow.”

“But we’d meet again so-,” Jaebum began to say before he managed to stop himself. He can’t be the one to tell Jackson. It wasn’t his place to do so.

“What’s that? Meet again?” Jackson asked in surprise before laughing. “Yeah, again as in the next time your Prince comes to visit which would be sometime…. Next year?” 

Jaebum shrugged nonchalantly though inwardly, he was relieved that Jackson was taking his words lightly. “That’s still meeting,” Jaebum said, acting a little offended.

“Right, right. Whatever makes you happy, Jaebum,” replied Jackson with a wink. “Now, teach me another move.” Jaebum gladly obliged.

Meanwhile, the two princes were sitting together, their attention divided between bouts of silence, conversations and watching their guards spar. Jinyoung had a curious look on his face as he observed Mark. Little did Mark and Jackson know, Jinyoung had had a good look at Jackson’s face when they just returned from hunting and Jackson’s expression had been one of absolute adoration and devotion. It was a look that Jinyoung had not seen before. Then again, perhaps it was because those usually around him were not as expressive as Jackson. Still, Jackson’s expression captivated Jinyoung. What was Jackson thinking of when he stared at Mark like that? And more so, Jinyoung found himself wondering what it would be like to be on the receiving end of that devoted gaze. Could he elicit such a gaze from Jackson? Would Jackson look at him like that? The idea somehow took root in Jinyoung’s mind and the visiting prince soon saw it as a personal challenge. He would get that gaze from Jackson. He would prove to himself that he was worthy to receive such feelings too.

Without anything more than a nod to Mark, Jinyoung got up and called to Jackson, interrupting a bout of rough housing that was going on between the two guards.

“Yes, Prince Jinyoung?” Jackson asked, hastily standing at attention once Jaebum had released him from an impending headlock. Jaebum and his headlocks would be the death of him, thought Jackson.

“Come here, please,” said Jinyoung, his voice raised just enough to be heard over the distance. 

After a confused glance at Jaebum, who also seemed to be at a loss about why Jinyoung wanted to speak to Jackson so suddenly, Jackson approached the visiting prince. He saw Mark watching as well and sent his prince a bewildered look but there was no time to seek a reply. 

“Jackson,” said Jinyoung the moment the guard was near enough, “I noticed that bird over there.” Jinyoung pointed at a bird that just happened to be nearby when Jinyoung needed it. “I heard that you like birds and know them well. What is it called?”

Jackson blinked, his lips parted in surprise because this was the last thing he expected from the visiting prince. Then again, this wouldn’t be the first time Jinyoung had asked him these type of questions. Recovering his wits, Jackson moved closer to the bird to get a better look. He could not yet see it that well. He crouched behind a bush and peered closer, trying to discern what bird it was. Ah-ha! Jackson knew this species! He motioned over his shoulder for Jinyoung to join him, which the visiting prince did after a moment’s hesitation. It felt odd to be beckoned like this by someone like Jackson. His intention had been to occupy Jackson’s attention and now that he had succeeded, Jinyoung actually found himself willingly sneaking up to crouch on the ground next to the guard. Who would have thought Jinyoung would be found in such a situation? No one who knew him would have guessed, not even Jaebum and the older guard was looking on silently after having arranged their used weapons in a neat pile. Jackson proceeded to explain that the bird was a finch and that it was usually found in such areas near the river. As Jackson continued his explanation with his eyes fixed mostly on the bird but sometimes flickering to the prince beside him, Jinyoung listened not only to what Jackson was telling him but also to the changed cadence of the guard’s voice. Usually excited and outspoken, Jackson’s voice was often loud and of a slightly higher register but now that he was speaking in hushed tones, there was a melodic low quality that was very pleasant to hear. 

Mark, on the other hand, had remained seated where he was but his eyes would not look anywhere else apart from where Jinyoung and Jackson crouched. Mark couldn’t help but feel resentful at the sight. That was a position and bond that he thought was special between Jackson and himself. It was a position that they often assumed when they had gone bird watching when Jackson had been a squire in training. It was a position that Mark associated with Jackson and, thought Mark with a slight pang, had hoped that it was a position Jackson associated with him only. But apparently, Mark’s position could be replaced by someone else without much thought. The idea made Mark feel bitter. Mark found himself ready for Jinyoung to leave the kingdom, his mind skipping over their improved relationship in favour of Jinyoung no longer being around Jackson. 

Just as Mark was about to order the hunt closed so that they’d head back to the castle because he no longer found any happiness being out there by the river, he saw Jackson suddenly get up and beckon to him. 

“Your highness,” hissed Jackson, not daring to raise his voice too loudly or even move too much. When Mark did not respond because he was still wrapped up in his disgruntled state of emotions, Jackson hissed louder, “Your highness~” Jackson crawled a little towards Mark as he raised a hand that beckoned insistently for Mark to join him. “Come here~” The sight of Jackson on his knees in the grass with a pleading but excited look on his face was enough to expel the illogical resentfulness Mark had earlier felt. It was also helped by the fact that Jackson was ignoring Jinyoung who had tapped on the guard’s shoulder. 

“Your. Royal. Highness,” Jackson continued to hiss, his eyes round and imploring as he crawled closer. “Come here puh-lease~” 

Hiding a grin but allowing himself to smile a little, Mark made his way over and in practised ease, crouched next to Jackson who was motioning with his finger at yet another bird nearby.

“Your highness, do you see it? I told you there’s a blue bird with a red spot on its chest but you didn’t believe me,” gushed Jackson.

“Where?”

“There, your highness, there,” pointed Jackson, leaning close to Mark in order to direct his prince’s gaze to where the rare bird was perched nearby. 

“I don’t see it,” said Mark, who was in reality teasing Jackson because he had seen it and it was a beautiful bird but in that moment, what was even more beautiful was that Jackson had forgotten about Jinyoung. Mark could see the disappointment and rejection on the visiting prince’s face and the selfish, immature part of him was delighted. 

“Your highness,” huffed Jackson in exasperation. He pressed closer to his prince until their shoulders touched. “ _There_.”

“Ah, I see it now. You were right, Jackson.”

“See? I told you, I told you!”

“Yes, you did,” Mark replied, indulging Jackson in his excitement and celebration of his small victory. It wasn’t often that Jackson could point out something Mark did not know so when it happened, Jackson always wanted to boast a little and Mark let him.

Jinyoung, on the other hand, had crossed his arms in a vexed manner as Jackson’s attention was now focused on Mark. While Jackson’s face was turned away from him, he could see Mark’s face clearly and it showed a happiness that Jinyoung envied. He wanted to be the one with that happy expression. The bird watching continued with Jackson finally turning to Jinyoung only to ask if they had the same bird in his kingdom because he was arguing with Mark about how rare the red-spotted bluebird was. Jinyoung realised there and then that as long as Mark was around, Jackson would barely pay him any attention. Well then. 

Finally, it was time to return to the castle and after having listened to more talk about birds than he could stomach, Jinyoung was ready to ride back. As the guards gathered up the remnants of food from their makeshift picnic by the river and secured their kills on the horses, an idea struck Jinyoung. It was a selfish idea, purely egotistical and quite dangerous but he had to try it. He’d get Jackson’s pure and undivided attention before the day was over. It must be noted that Jinyoung wasn’t usually given to such selfish impulses but rarely if ever in his privileged life had he ever needed to compete for attention. It was always poured out to him in leaps and bounds. Along with the fact that he was very intelligent and had learned to read people very early on, he had never had to deal with anyone like Jackson whose attention was usually fixated on someone else other than Jinyoung. Jinyoung had never been second. And it displeased him. 

Jinyoung approached Jaebum to order him to prepare the horses. 

“Yes, your highness,” answered the guard with a slight bow. 

Jinyoung hummed his acknowledgement but just as Jaebum turned to leave, Jinyoung caught hold of the guard’s wrist. Startled, Jaebum stopped in his tracks to look at his prince. He saw a look of guilt on his prince’s face and wrecked his mind trying to understand why or what had brought on this sudden change. 

“Jaebum,” murmured Jinyoung, eyes searching the guard’s own dark ones before falling, downcast. Jaebum’s breath hitched. What was going on? Why was his prince acting like this?

“Jaebum, please…” Jinyoung had to pause and clear his throat before continuing in a small voice. “Please don’t hate me.”

“Y-your highness,” stuttered Jaebum, his usual controlled demeanour vanishing without a trace. “What do you mean? What in heavens do you mean?”

Jinyoung’s first response was to tighten his grip on Jaebum’s wrist. He took a deep breath and said softly, “promise me. Promise you won’t hate me.”

“Your highness,” breathed Jaebum in a sigh that sought to both reassure his prince that nothing could ever make him hate Jinyoung and communicate his hurt that Jinyoung would even imagine such a thing happening. His loyalty and devotion to Jinyoung was unshakable, he thought Jinyoung knew that. 

Jinyoung squeezed Jaebum’s wrist again. This time, the guard lifted a hand to enclose Jinyoung’s pale one. “I promise.” 

Jinyoung glanced up at Jaebum, relief replacing most of the guilt and then he nodded, releasing Jaebum’s wrist after giving it one last squeeze. “Now prepare the horses and wait there until I call for you.”

“Yes, your highness.”

“Remember, do not come until I call for you.”

“Yes, your highness.” If Jinyoung’s order puzzled Jaebum, the guard didn’t show it. He’d do whatever Jinyoung desired and if Jinyoung said to wait until he called for him, then he’d wait. Giving another bow, Jaebum set off to where the horses were which was quite a distance away from the river because they had wanted to let the horses lie in the shade. 

Back by the river bank, Jackson was chatting with Mark in animated gestures, probably telling Mark another funny experience he had heard recently while the prince waited for Jackson to gather up the last of their belongings. Jinyoung took a deep determined breath and raced passed them, calling out as he ran by, “I’m going to take a dip!”

With that, Jinyoung jumped and dived into the river headfirst. 

“Wait, Jinyoung!” Mark gasped in shock before Jinyoung resurfaced, shaking his head and swiping his hair out of his eyes. “Jinyoung, what do you think you’re doing?! That river’s too dangerous to swim in!”

“Is it real-?” but Jinyoung’s words were lost as he felt the undercurrent tug him. It was stronger than he had assumed. 

“HELP!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all, i am SO SORRY this chapter has taken so long. i've been up to my ears in work and yes, i know it's not excuse for readers because i too wait for updates like crazy. so i am truly sorry for making you wait as well.
> 
> on the other hand, things are progressing and only one more chapter to draw this story's arch to a close.
> 
> i do apologise beforehand for jinyoung's characterisation. i needed him to be a bit selfish in this fic and even though he is very sweet and generous in real life, think of the jinyoung in this fic as an utterly immature imaginary jinyoung.
> 
> oh and in case you're worried about jinyoung's survival - i don't think i'm spoiling anything by saying that Jinyoung is rescued :)
> 
> hope you've enjoyed the update and as always, do let me know what you think! i love reading comments, short, long, spazzy and critical. all comments welcomed :)


	8. To practise courtesy p.4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rescue and many realisations.

Mark watched in horror as Jinyoung was swept downstream by the river’s current. He knew the river wasn’t safe which was why he hadn’t suggested that they go for a swim. Little did he know that Jinyoung would jump in like that – Jinyoung had never been that impulsive the entire time Mark had known the visiting prince. 

“JINYOUNG!” roared Mark, which had Jaebum come running. The guard had been waiting with growing apprehension because of Jinyoung’s odd behaviour. It had sent warning signals to Jaebum’s mind and he could not help feeling unsettled. Chewing his lip, Jaebum had actually taken to pacing the grass beside the horses as he battled with the desire to disobey his prince just to make sure that Jinyoung was next to him. Now, he hurtled towards the river, his eyes locked on Jinyoung’s head. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t feel, he could only react and every instinct in his body screamed to save his prince.

Mark scrambled down the bank to the river’s edge as well but Jackson made it into the water first. 

The moment Jackson realised that Jinyoung had jumped, he had immediately followed after for the guard knew that many others had met their fate in the river’s current. Kicking off his shoes in haste because he knew it would hinder him in his attempts to reach Jinyoung who was already being carried a few feet away, Jackson took a deep breath and felt his body tense as he hit the cold water. As always, the first submersion was a shock but there was no time to waste. Breaking the surface, Jackson blinked the water out of his eyes to look for Jinyoung but didn’t see him. His heart clenched.

“JACKSON!” screamed Mark to get his guard’s attention, pointing desperately at the direction where Jinyoung had drifted to in the time it took for Jackson to dive in. Mark himself was running along the bank, trying to get to where there was a bend in the river. Jaebum was sprinting alongside him, a long sturdy tree branch already in his hands.

Casting his eyes in the direction Mark pointed, Jackson spotted the dark-haired prince bobbing a little beyond his reach with his hands flailing because panic was setting in. Gritting his teeth, Jackson cut through the waters and current as fast as he could, putting everything into his strokes in an effort to reach Jinyoung who looked absolutely terrified. 

“Prince Jinyoung!” cried Jackson, trying to get the visiting prince’s attention. If Jinyoung could head towards him at the same time Jackson was closing in, things would have been a little easier. As it was, Jinyoung was practically blind to everything except adrenaline and panic. Taking another deep breath as he tried to cross the current’s pull, Jackson doubled his efforts using every ounce of strength in his body. He had to save Jinyoung.

Finally, after what seemed like ages of neither of them seemingly moving anywhere except further downstream, Jackson managed to close a hand around Jinyoung’s arm. “Prince,” gasped Jackson as Jinyoung turned around wildly. 

“Save me!” cried Jinyoung, tears in his eyes and face devoid of any colour. 

“I will! I will!” assured Jackson as he wrapped an arm around Jinyoung’s neck. It would be much easier to tow him back towards the grassy bank in that position but Jinyoung wasn’t in a state for logic. His hands grappled unto Jackson’s body, clambering unto him in an effort to keep himself above the river’s surface.

After swallowing mouthfuls of water when his head was unceremoniously pushed under, Jackson resorted to desperate measures especially when his strength was waning. Knowing he’d probably be punished for this, he raised a hand to give Jinyoung a sharp slap on the visiting prince’s cheek. That shocked Jinyoung enough to stop his flailing and without wasting another moment, Jackson tucked his arm under Jinyoung’s neck and pulled him towards the bend where Mark was waiting with Jaebum, the branch already held out towards Jackson’s path if the river’s current would hold its course. Praying to the heavens, Jackson concentrated with all his might to ensure that he would be able to snare the lifeline that Jaebum was holding out. It would decide whether or not they’d survive because they would not be able to fight the current or stay afloat much longer before the waters became even more dangerous. 

Pacing his strokes, Jackson’s eyes narrowed on the branch. He reached out to grab it but there was an unexpected pull in the water that made Jaebum cry out desperately as his prince slipped away from him, venturing even further into the river to reach Jackson while Mark held the visiting guard’s waist to anchor him to land. If Jaebum ventured even a little more into the river, he’d be lost as well and right then, Mark knew the only chance of saving Jackson was gripped in Jaebum’s arms. They had to save them – Jackson and Jinyoung.

Gasping, Jackson gave a desperate kick, propelling himself just enough for his fist to close over the branch and with the last of his strength, he wound his arm around it, praying that the branch will hold. His eyes were squeezed shut in exhaustion but he never lessened his grip around Jinyoung’s neck. Vaguely, he felt them being dragged towards the river bank against the will of the river that still tugged at them strongly. 

‘Just don’t let go,’ Jackson chanted to himself, ‘don’t let go.’ But it was costing him everything just to keep hanging on, his body cold and numb with exhaustion and the chill of the water. He could not give up, not when he had someone else’s life in his hands and as for Jackson, Jackson couldn’t go yet. There were still many things he wanted to do – it was his duty as a guard, as a future knight for his kingdom. For Mark. Thus, he tightened his hold on the branch, his palm and fingers digging into the wood hard enough to draw splinters. 

Soon enough and without a moment to spare before his grip gave out, he felt hands grab his shoulders and arms and finally, they were hauled out of the water. Jaebum grasped Jinyoung immediately. Cradling his prince in his arms, Jaebum sprinted towards the horses, his full intent bent on getting Jinyoung back to the castle, back where it was warm and safe. Driven by adrenaline, he got his horse ready and after laying Jinyoung over the horse’s back for a moment, Jaebum swung himself into the saddle. He pulled Jinyoung into his arms, arranging for the prince to sit side-saddle and laid the prince’s dark matted head as comfortably as possible on his shoulder. The cloak he had was draped over Jinyoung in an attempt to keep him warm. Then he slid one arm around Jinyoung’s waist and set off.

Through the entire transition, Jinyoung hadn’t said a word. He barely responded except for chattering teeth and a shivering body. He was so cold… and so stupid. What was he thinking? He hadn’t been thinking, that was the problem. He had almost lost his life. The realisation had taken a while to sink in after the imminent threat was over and now, Jinyoung suddenly felt the full weight of it. He had almost died. Gasping, he freed a hand from the confines of the cloak to clutch at his guard’s vest.

“Your highness?” asked Jaebum, glancing for a moment at Jinyoung who had turned his head so that his face was now buried against the guard’s chest. “Your highness,” Jaebum murmured, his arm that was around Jinyoung’s waist gave his prince a comforting squeeze. It’s the most familiar he’s ever held his prince and under normal circumstances this would never have happened but at the moment, Jaebum wanted to give Jinyoung the reassurance the prince needed. At the same time, Jaebum also needed to reassure himself that his prince was still here. Those heart-stopping moments when the fear of losing his prince almost became reality had shaken Jaebum, probably scarred him for life. He needed to feel that his prince was still with him. While he had always sworn to himself that he would be willing to give up his life for Jinyoung, he had never ever imagined the tables turned and Jinyoung taken from him instead. The terror that he felt in those brief but potent moments was enough to make Jaebum determined that he’d never ever leave Jinyoung’s side again, no, not even if he was commanded to for he now realised that it was more than duty tying him to Jinyoung. It was much more. 

Overwhelmed with gratitude that the heavens had not taken Jinyoung away from him, Jaebum leaned down to press his head briefly against Jinyoung’s temple. “You’re safe now,” Jaebum murmured, “you’re safe.”

The relief in Jaebum’s voice was so apparent that it wrenched an apology from Jinyoung’s lips. “I’m so sorry, Jaebum,” cried Jinyoung in shuddering sobs, “I’m so, so sorry.” He couldn’t say much beyond that because now the tears from shock as well as regret and relief mixed together to prevent Jinyoung from uttering anything more. He leaned into Jaebum, trying to communicate what he could not at that moment say, to let his guard know that he deeply regretted his mistake and, for the first time as far as he could remember, to ask for comfort that everything would be alright. All his life, Jinyoung hadn’t asked for reassurance because he had lived his life with confidence, praise following whatever he did wherever he went. He had scoffed at the idea of relying on others for one’s sense of self but the experience in the water had shaken him. He had always been able to solve problems using his intelligence and influence. Basically, he had never felt powerless. He had never felt vulnerable and now in the throes of such humbling emotions, he was only too glad to be able to cling on to Jaebum. 

“Hush, your highness,” Jaebum replied, a pang in his soul as he watched tears fall from his prince’s eyes. He leaned down again to press his head against Jinyoung’s. This time, he prolonged the pressure, sensing that Jinyoung needed it – that they needed it. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

 

* * *

 

Jackson gulped for air, breathing hard as he collapsed on his back when Jaebum had taken Jinyoung. His body was numb with exhaustion but his arms hurt the most. It felt like every muscle in his body was protesting the abuse he had put them through. Coughing, he heaved breath after breath, eyes closed and head thrown back to rest on the grass. Then he heard Mark’s voice calling his name. Part of him did not want to answer because he was tired and it was taking most of his concentration to just breathe. At the same time though, there was an edge in his prince’s voice that he knew he would respond to even if he were an inch from death and since he wasn’t even near dead yet, he forced open his eyes to see his prince hovering over him, clearly worried and anxious. 

‘That’s not a look you should have,’ thought Jackson, ‘ever.’ He opened his mouth to tell his prince just that but he couldn’t speak just yet.

“Jackson,” called Mark, kneeling by his guard’s head. He was flustered. He wanted to help Jackson but he did not know what to do. No one had ever told him how to respond when someone had difficulty breathing after over-exertion. 

Jackson wanted to reply but again, no voice came out, just a silent mouth gasping for air. He did, however, raise his hand in a flap to signal that he just needed time before it fell to rest on his chest. Closing his eyes again, he tried to gain control of his breathing, in and out, in and out, evenly paced and unlike the frenzied attempts he had been taking earlier. 

Mark sat back on his hunches, waiting with his eyes fixed on Jackson. He had no idea what else to do, if there was anything he was supposed to be doing to help. His hands clutched at his thighs with a tense grip to will himself to stop acting so frantic. Jackson was alright. He was here. He was breathing. Jackson was alright. Mark also tried to regulate his breathing to steady his heart that had gone through different phases of freezing, then beating again, and then beating too fast before stopping once more. That one moment when the current had swerved Jackson almost out of reach….

Mark watched Jackson’s chest rise and fall, the vest and undershirt Jackson was wearing glued to the guard’s body. It was only when Mark was absent-mindedly tracing the patches where the fabric was translucent enough that it seemed merged to Jackson’s skin that Mark realised Jackson was soaked. One thing he knew, never stay in wet clothes because one would fall ill. That Mark knew and after having fallen into a pond when he was twelve (thanks to Jackson really), Mark placed absolute trust in that principle and so, he acted on it. 

“Jackson, take off your clothes,” Mark said, his voice oddly calm and disconnected from the emotional chaos that was thankfully subsiding.

That caused Jackson’s eyes to snap open as he stammered, “W-what?” Picking up his head, he stared at his prince in surprise.

“You’re soaking wet,” explained Mark. Jackson looked so bewildered that amidst Mark’s growing relief, Mark found himself being able to enjoy the large, brown eyes that just looked at him. That, and the fact that Jackson’s jaw had dropped wide open. Relaxing his worried expression, Mark continued saying, “You’ll fall ill. Take off your clothes.”

Jackson didn’t move, his mouth still gaping as his mind now had to deal with the embarrassment at having reacted like that to Mark’s words. It’s just that… no one had ever told him to undress. Ever. It wasn’t that he had never taken his shirt off or gone half-dressed in front of others. Why, the lads he trained with while he was a squire would promptly divest themselves of their tunics to wash off their sweat and Jackson had never felt embarrassed about it. It had been natural – not like this, not like this awkwardness that was new to him. He found himself blushing and for some reason, he had to break eye contact with his prince. He threw his gaze away to the opposite direction, looking at nothing in particular because he was basically yelling at himself internally to come to his senses. 

“Do you need me to help you?” asked Mark when Jackson hadn’t made any move to do so. At this point, Mark was half serious and half teasing.

“N-NO!” yelped Jackson, sitting up with a jolt. “I can do it- I can do it myself!” Jackson insisted and hurriedly tugged at the vest, unbuttoning it with frantic fingers. Jackson was flustered and could feel himself turning very red and it had nothing to do with the fact that he had just exhausted every ounce of energy in his body in the river. It was just the thought of Mark, his prince, helping him take off his shirt – being ordered to take off his clothes was bad enough, his prince actually helping him – no, impossible. He’ll stop that train of thought right there, thank you very much. He yanked off the vest and proceeded to tug at his shirt. The darn fabric seemed stuck to his skin and after struggling, during which he didn’t notice Mark’s lips being pressed together to stop himself from laughing at Jackson’s attempts to fight his shirt, Jackson finally managed to peel it off. He let it flop on the grass beside him, just relieved that he had finished the task. He certainly was not going to take anything else off and neither was Mark really expecting him to. 

Just as Mark was about to ask why Jackson still refused to look him in the eye merely because he wanted to see how long Jackson would remained flustered, his eyes caught sight of a small pouch dangling from a piece of string that hung around Jackson’s neck. It was a small leather pouch, very small, barely a quarter the size of his palm. He had never seen it before and curiosity outweighed his desire to tease his guard. “What’s that?” asked Mark, pointing to the pouch.

Jackson’s eyes whizzed back to Mark. When he realised where the prince was pointing, Jackson’s face promptly coloured scarlet again, he grasped it in his left hand and bodily turned away from Mark. He couldn’t let Mark know what was in the pouch that he had newly acquired. Initially he had wanted to sew it himself but his stitching was so clumsy that he worried the pouch would come apart at the slightest tug so he had paid for it to be made. Jackson rarely spent his money on such things but he thought this was necessary. He needed to keep his treasure safe. Panicking for a bit when he realised he had dived into the river with it, he hastily opened it to check. Thank goodness, it was still inside. A bit wet but it was still there. Heaving a small sigh of relief, he was about to answer his prince’s question when he felt fingers brush along his bare back. He stiffened, spine snapped straight but the fingers were still there. His heart started pounding in his chest – was it, there was no one else around, was it the prince?

When Jackson had first turned away, Mark was about to ask his guard to face him again but then his eyes fell on Jackson’s back. Whatever mirth and curiosity that had bubbled to the surface since Jackson had rescued Jinyoung disappeared like vapour. Mark’s eyes could not help but follow the gashes on Jackson’s back, wounds that had scarred over but ever so noticeable. Some were raised stripes where the skin and flesh appeared paler than Jackson’s skin, making the scars even more prominent. Mark knew Jackson had been punished and had gathered enough from what Yugyeom refused to say that it had been a heavy lashing. But this – this was inhumane… and Mark’s heart hurt. Seeing Jackson’s scars physically pained him, his gut and soul twisting from guilt that he had been the cause of it, that he had not known, that he had let Jackson suffer in isolation while only the barest care given to his wounds. His throat felt thick, blocked, caught between the desire to cry out in anger and to keep the sadness down. Besides himself, he raised his fingers to trace the largest gash. It led to another, which led to another and yet another. It was all across Jackson’s broad back. And all Mark could do was to feel so sorry.

After the feather-light touches had continued beyond what Jackson could endure, he jerked away, twisting his body away from Mark, an apology or excuse on his lips – that he had to go get the horses, that it was late, that they had to leave – but the look on Mark’s face made Jackson freeze. Of course! His scars! How could he have forgotten! So engrossed was he in registering, processing and basically savouring the gentle touch of his prince’s fingers that he had not realised that Mark had full view of his scar-wrought back.

“Your highness,” Jackson called tentatively. Mark looked so horrified that Jackson did not know how to react. Was his back that ugly? He had never seen it, of course he couldn’t, and most of the time he forgot about it unless the water was a little too hot and his scars tingled, the flesh and skin sensitive in certain areas. It must look hideous – he must be hideous. Mark must think so, otherwise why would Mark have that look on his face? Jackson bit his lip, glancing once more at Mark before his let his head fall forwards in an attempt to hide the sadness and shame that now wrecked his soul. Mark must think him repulsive – so repulsive that the prince was frozen in place. Jackson wished he had something to cover himself but he had nothing. The silence lengthened until Jackson decided to clear his throat. 

“Ahem, I’ll,” muttered Jackson, glancing at Mark who still hadn’t moved, “I’ll go get the horses, y-your highness.”

“Forgive me,” Mark said, essentially stopping Jackson who was in the midst of getting to his feet. Mark’s eyes looked for Jackson’s, found them and did not leave. “Forgive me, please,” pleaded Mark. “Please.”

“Your highness,” gasped Jackson, dropping to his knees and bent forwards so that their faces were level, “What are you asking forgiveness for? You have done nothing wrong.”

“I have, Jackson,” replied Mark in a quiet, contrite voice. “Your scars are proof of it, of my selfishness, my stubbornness, my-”

“Your highness, what ar-”

“It’s all my fault, Jackson. I’m so sorry. I-”

“Your highness!” called Jackson, voice raised enough to stem Mark’s speech that was beginning to ramble. He was so close to gripping his prince’s shoulders to give him a firm shake but he couldn’t. It wasn’t his place. Instead, he settled with staring straight into his prince’s eyes, searching them to make sure that he had Mark’s attention.

“This is not your fault, your highness. It is not,” Jackson insisted but he could see Mark wasn’t convinced. Taking a deep breath, Jackson tried again. “Your highness, if you are determined to blame yourself for this, then I too blame myself for injuring you that night.” Jackson could see that Mark was about to protest and pushed forward his argument. “I did deserve punishment and yes, even if the punishment is a little heavy, but I was the one who took responsibility for it, just like how I’ve chosen to take on the responsibility of being your guard.” Jackson paused and when Mark didn’t argue, Jackson continued, “It was my choice. So it is not your fault that I was punished. It is not your fault that I wanted to be your guard. It is not your fault.”

Mark was silent, trying to understand and accept what Jackson was saying. Part of him could, the rational part of him. The irrational one, however, still did not want to. The irrational part of him wanted to pay back every single injury Jackson now bore ten-fold. The irrational part of him wanted to keep Jackson from ever being hurt again. The irrational part of him wanted to keep Jackson in his palms, just like the little bird he had first held in his hands when they were young lads. But, in spite of all that… the irrational part of him also did not want to see Jackson feeling guilty. So reluctantly, finally, Mark nodded his agreement. It was not full agreement but if it could keep Jackson from blaming himself, Mark would agree. 

Jackson nodded in time with his prince, a smile replacing the serious look he had on his face. Grinning he added, “Or if you want to blame yourself, maybe blame yourself for being an incredibly amazing, handsome, charming, intelligent prince.” 

Mark could not help but laugh at this, raising a hand to swipe at Jackson but his guard’s quick reflex dodged Mark’s hand. 

“Honestly, Jackson,” muttered Mark, shaking his head with the ghost of an indulgent smile on his face again.

“There, there’s the prince I know,” announced Jackson, springing to his feet. Picking up his shirt, he slung it on his back and went to get his shoes from where he had kicked them off. “Let’s head back to the castle. We’ve got to check on Prince Jinyoung.”

“Yes, we should,” Mark replied, also making a mental note that a hot bath and extra food be ordered for Jackson. 

 

* * *

 

Finally, it was the banquet for Jinyoung’s farewell and as always, the King and Queen were seated in the middle, Mark on the right, Jinyoung on the left. This time, however, there was a difference because at a table placed at a tangent immediately to Mark’s right sat Jaebum and Jackson, both looking extremely uncomfortable, as if they did not belong there. It had been Jinyoung’s request for Jackson and Jaebum to be treated as guests of honour during the banquet for having saved Jinyoung’s life. 

When Jaebum had arrived at the castle’s steps with Jinyoung still dazed and hysterical in his arms, everyone had been thrown into a flurry. Hot water was readied, kitchens ordered to prepare special food, physicians were summoned. Basically Jaebum kicked up quite a bit of fuss in his frenzy to ensure that his prince was given the best care and no one blamed him for it. It would be horrific to have any accident befall the visiting prince. So Jinyoung was tended to according to Jaebum’s heart’s content. Mark and Jackson had arrived amidst the chaos and after ensuring that Jackson also got some attention, things had settled down. 

When Jinyoung had awakened, he had asked for Jackson and Mark. As they stood by Jinyoung’s bed with Jaebum steadfast at his side, Jinyoung had apologised for being so impulsive. All pretence and persona were stripped away. It was just Jinyoung being truly sorry for all the trouble he had caused to which Jackson was quick to assure Jinyoung that no apology was necessary. Jinyoung had held out his hand, which Jackson without hesitation, and uttered heartfelt words of gratitude.

“Thank you, Jackson, for saving my life.”

“It- There’s no need to thank me, Prince Jinyoung. It was my duty.” 

Jinyoung could not help but smile at Jackson’s response. It was so like the humble Jackson he had come to know. 

“Please do not take this lightly. I owe my life to you. To you and Jaebum,” Jinyoung said, turning his head to look at his guard with a smile, a smile that was fully returned. “What would you like in return?”

“Me?” gulped Jackson, glancing at his prince for some clue or what to do when addressed by royalty like this but all Mark did was smile softly at him. As much as Mark’s smile made something in Jackson preen with happiness, it wasn’t helping the situation. “I’ll… let you know if I think of something?” Jackson asked hesitantly because he wasn’t even sure if one was allowed to postpone a wish. 

Laughing, Jinyoung said, “Of course. Just remember to tell me.” Smiling brightly at the guard, he thought of something that made his eyes crinkle in excitement. “Oh! Since you have no request, then please be a guest of honour at the leaving feast! Please! You and Jaebum!”

“What?” gasped Jackson, looking to Jaebum who also had a surprised look on his face. 

“Please! It would be great! Then the feast would really have something to celebrate rather than just saying goodbye. You two would get to sit down and enjoy a feast for once, instead of standing guard behind us like you usually do. You can dress up too, no guard uniforms, I forbid it!” Jinyoung was visibly excited now, eyes shining as his imagination took flight. Jaebum and Jackson would look dashing in noble clothes and Jinyoung had an eye for such things. 

“What say you, Mark? Shall we give our hardworking, dedicated guards a break?” asked Jinyoung with a conspiring wink at the host prince.

Mark smiled in return, feeling the beginnings of the slightest sense of comradery between himself and Jinyoung. “Of course, they have earned it I’d say.”

“Yes, they have! And leave me to prepare them, Mark. I guarantee you will not recognise Jackson when I’m through with him.” 

Mark glanced at Jackson who had sent his prince a clear vivid plea for help, eyes wide and imploring, lips slightly pursed with silent appeal for salvation from being subjected to Prince Jinyoung’s hands. Usually, Mark would have accepted Jackson’s request and refused but this time, he was curious. He had never seen Jackson beyond the usual tousled and matted hair barely tamed by a string of leather tied across his forehead to keep his locks from falling into his eyes, or even dressed in clothes any different from what he used to wear as a squire. It would be interesting to see how different Jackson might look and if Jinyoung were able to do it, why not?

“Have your way, Jinyoung,” Mark told the visiting prince while Jackson’s quiet plea was no longer silent. 

“Your highness!” squeaked Jackson, an unbecoming but absolutely endearing (to Mark at least) whine in the guard’s voice. 

“So I’ll send Jackson to you tomorrow afternoon then? For dinner preparations?” asked Mark. He had addressed the question to Jinyoung but was grinning at Jackson who now had a look of utter betrayal on his face. 

“Afternoon is fine. Actually, better make it right after lunch. It might take a bit more time than I anticipate,” mused Jinyoung as he waved goodbye while Mark and Jackson left the room.

“Your highness!” hissed Jackson, “You know how I feel about those kind of clothes! They’re so uncomfortable and pretentious and-”

“Oh, quiet, Jackson,” Mark reprimanded with a laugh, “Who knows? You might enjoy it.”

So the result of all Jinyoung’s ministrations was displayed for all to see as Jackson sat at a table with Jaebum in front of all those in attendance. The two guards looked like they’d prefer nothing better than to change back into their uniforms and stand behind their respective princes’ thrones to be away from the prying eyes of the public. Jackson, for one, felt like he was an animal in a cage, bound by invisible bars around the table. There were so many people looking at him. They would look, whisper to others, sometimes with their hands held up to cover their mouths as if they did not want Jackson to overhear, and then glance at him again. Jackson’s hands were clenched into fists out of nerves, pressed unto his thighs. After another burst of giggling from a group of ladies who were seated nearby, Jackson clenched his teeth. What was so funny?! Did he look like a clown? Probably. Feeling sorry for himself, he glanced at Jaebum and though the visiting guard’s chin was held high, Jackson could detect the same discomfort in Jaebum’s features. At least Jaebum looked handsome. He could already picture the ladies swooning at Jaebum’s sharp brow and chin. The visiting guard turned to Jackson and handsome though he was, they shared a miserable smile. Then Jackson’s eyes began to flitter over to the royal table but when Jackson realised this, he looked away immediately. He just didn’t want to see Mark laughing at him all in velvet and brocade. It just wasn’t him. Moreover, Jinyoung had made him cut his hair. One word and a page was there with a blade and off his hair went. Now it was shorter, not as short as Jaebum’s but short enough that he couldn’t tie it in a ponytail anymore. And Jinyoung had ordered his hair slicked and combed back off his forehead. He felt… strange. While the style looked great on Jaebum, Jacksons did not think he could pull it off.

“I look like a monkey,” muttered Jackson under his breath, which Jaebum did catch and it caused the visiting guard to grin. 

“No, you do not. You look dashing,” Jaebum told him.

Jackson, however, wouldn’t believe him. “Thanks for trying,” Jackson replied in a huff as he took another piece of bread. Oh well, since he was sitting there, might as well eat. It wasn’t often that he could have choice cuts of meat and chewing slowly, he tried to figure out if the loin of lamb was really much better than the usual cuts they had.

While Jackson refused to look at Mark, Mark had a hard time looking away from Jackson. When Jinyoung had taken his place at the royal table, the king had announced that there was another cause to be thankful for and welcomed Jackson and Jaebum as royal guests. Both guards entered the hall then, arms stiff at their sides. Their gait was slightly awkward, it was as if by missing their swords, they were missing a limb. That and because they were laced up in clothes that they would never wear because one could not fight when the vest is pulled too tight, breeches and overcoats hampering rather than allowing movement.

Mark, however, didn’t notice any of that. He had had to stop to blink for though he recognised Jackson, his guard appeared equally unfamiliar to him. Had Jackson always had such a strong, clear brow? Had the slope of his nose always been so elegant? Had his cheekbones always been so defined? His lips so plush? Had his jawline always been so chiselled with the faintest hint of a cleft chin? The features were the same, the little quirks that made Jackson unique were still there, like that adorable little bump at the end of his nose, but with his hair combed back, it was as if Mark was seeing Jackson in a new light. Mark marveled at the change and would swear on his life that he believed Jackson to be handsome, extremely handsome. If Mark didn’t know any better, he’d say Jackson had the looks of at least a nobleman. And that was only Jackson’s head. Once Mark got to Jackson’s form that was highlighted by a well-chosen outer coat that accentuated the guard’s broad and strong shoulders but cinched at the waist which showed off a tapered body, Mark believed handsome too weak a word to describe Jackson. Through the sleeves, one could see the faintest trace of well-defined muscles, even down to his thighs that filled out the breeches. This was Jackson the guard, but not as anyone had ever seen him. 

Mark barely kept within the boundaries of polite interest as his eyes followed Jackson’s figure as the guard stood in front of the royal table, bowed and then took his seat for the remainder of the evening. While the feast went on, laughter and drink flowing freely, Mark often found himself watching Jackson. For some reason, Mark wanted to engrave how Jackson looked in his memory down to every last detail, from where the cuffs of his sleeve ended and the way the burgundy overcoat contrasted by silver brocade complemented Jackson’s tanned skin. As he did so, he still found himself looking for signs that this was Jackson, from the knuckled fingers to the way Jackson gnawed at his lower lip because he was plainly nervous. He was so engrossed in his efforts that he did not notice Jinyoung slide into one of the seats placed in between the various thrones. 

“He looks good, doesn’t he?” whispered Jinyoung into Mark’s ear which startled the host prince. 

“Jinyoung,” chastised Mark but it was really out of surprise. In the instant he was interrupted, he realised he had been blatantly gazing at Jackson. That wasn’t good, not as a prince. He couldn’t act like that. Taking a gulp of wine, he placed the finely wrought glass down and answered Jinyoung’s question, “Yes he does.” He took another sip, anything to distract himself from the guest of honour’s table.

“Honestly, I always thought Jaebum was handsome but I never knew how much,” mused the visiting prince, eyes crinkled in mirth because of how Mark practically sputtered and choked on his wine. 

“Jae-, I mean, yes, yes he does look good,” gasped Mark, coughing a little as the wine seared the back of his throat enough to make his eyes water. 

“Ah, but Jackson is good looking too,” offered Jinyoung with a grin to appease Mark after the glare that the host prince had thrown at him. Mark merely huffed, coughing softly again to reduce the burning sensation in his throat. “No, truly,” continued Jinyoung as he propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin on the palm of his hand, “who knew trimming Jackson’s hair could make such a difference? He looks like a whole new man – a dashing man at that.”

Mark found his eyes disobeying his newly formed decision to stop staring. Looking at Jackson again, he could only nod. 

“It wasn’t easy though,” Jinyoung told Mark, “I had to argue to get him to wear that overcoat. It’s a lovely colour and it suits him very well, the silver in the brocade contrasts with his dark hair beautifully.” And as Jinyoung continued to fill Mark in on the details and lengths he had to go through to get Jackson looking like this, Mark nodded at appropriate times. He knew Jackson was feeling uncomfortable and under other circumstances, Mark would be amused by it all but right then, when he was still somewhat in awe, admiration was the only thing Mark felt. 

“Oh, looks like we’re not the only ones who think so,” said Jinyoung, nudging Mark lightly in his side and motioned towards a group of ladies with the incline of his own wine glass. They were giggling and pushing each other as if daring one of them to approach the table where the guards sat, stoic and intent on doing what they were seated there to do and that was to eat. 

The dancing had already started with music that was accompanied by stomping of feet and clapping of hands. It was all regimented court dancing and while Mark had learned them all, he never danced. Jackson, surely, wouldn’t have the faintest idea what to do and Mark watched with grim satisfaction as one of the ladies finally approached Jackson and Jackson had declined with a smile and a shake of his head. It only confirmed Mark’s opinion that Jackson needn’t learn the dances at all. Not necessary for a guard really. Dancing wasn’t part of Jackson’s duties. 

The lady, however, didn’t seem that deterred. While Jackson had declined to dance, she was still talking to him and Jackson, out of courtesy, had stood so that the lady needn’t bend down to talk to him. Besides, she certainly outranked him in social standing. It was only polite to stand in front of one’s superiors. Mark was about to look away when she said something that made Jackson laugh. Mark’s fingers gripped the neck of his glass a little too firmly and it was Jinyoung’s fingers on his wrist that prevented Mark from breaking it. 

“He’s special to you, isn’t he? Jackson, I mean,” commented Jinyoung. 

“As Jaebum is special to you, I believe,” replied Mark, leaning back on the arm of his throne. He hadn’t realised he had been watching Jackson and the lady with tension in his shoulders and upper body. Willing himself to relax, he took another sip of wine and placed the glass on the table, fingers playing with the base as he pushed it around in small circles on the table cloth. 

“Jaebum is very special to me,” said Jinyoung, the visiting prince’s eyes resting on Jaebum who had also refused some advances with a coldness that discouraged further attempts to engage in conversation. “I’m only beginning to realise just how much.” 

Mark glanced at Jinyoung, a tad surprised that he was telling Mark this. It was like a true conversation instead of the veiled polite ones they had shared in the past. 

“You know, I cannot remember a time Jaebum was not at my side?” Jinyoung informed Mark, his elbow propped again on the table while his eyes were still on Jaebum. “He was always there, for duty, he’d say. He wanted to serve the kingdom and hence, that meant serving me. So I took him for granted in many ways. It was only out of duty, was it not? But now, now I think it’s more than that.” There was a soft gleam in Jinyoung’s eyes as he spoke, Mark could see a tenderness that he never knew Jinyoung possessed under the polite, stand-offish persona he always had on. 

“He values you,” commented Mark, giving Jinyoung a small reassuring smile. 

“As Jackson does you,” replied Jinyoung, turning to look at Mark. Jinyoung paused for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to proceed with what he was going to say. The hesitation worried Mark a little. “Mark, I am sorry. If I knew earlier how much he meant to you and you to him, I-”

Just then, the court Chancellor struck his staff against the stone floor and silence fell in the hall after a particularly intricate dance had ended. King Raymond stood and many assumed it was the usual bid good night and for the merriment to carry on while the royal couple retired to bed which was what King Raymond said but this was more than that. 

“Jackson,” called the King, looking over at where Jackson stood.

Jackson hastened over and knelt on the floor directly in front of where the King stood. 

“You have made us very proud, risking your life to save Prince Jinyoung is a deed you shall be remembered for.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” came Jackson’s reply, his head still bowed and though inwardly, he wanted to protest because had anyone else been in the situation he had been in, they’d have jumped into the river too. He did not believe he had done anything special. Being guest of honour was more than enough. He made up his mind to refuse any reward the King was going to offer.

“And you shall hopefully bring us honour once again.”

Jackson stiffened. 

“There will be a tournament next spring and our region will be participating as one unit. You, Jackson, have been chosen to represent our kingdom just as Jaebum will represent his. Together, you will face knights from other kingdoms from across oceans and far away. I trust you will do your best, Jackson, will you not?”  
Jackson looked up in surprise. A tournament? With Jaebum? Other kingdoms? Oceans? What was this? But this wasn’t a time to seek clarification, not when King Raymond had asked a question.

“I will, Your Majesty, for your honours,” declared Jackson, head bowed again as was apt when receiving a royal command.

“We have full trust that you will, Jackson. And in preparation for the tournament, you shall train with Jaebum in Prince Jinyoung’s kingdom. You would be away for months, more than half a year, but it will be a good experience for you. Captain Paul agrees with me that this will certainly help you in your desire to be a respected knight of our kingdom.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“As such, you shall leave with Prince Jinyoung’s entourage tomorrow-” 

“T-tomorrow?” gasped Jackson, shocked out of decorum and the silence he should have held. 

“I am certain you cannot wait to begin,” replied King Raymond, misunderstanding Jackson’s reaction as enthusiasm, “We wish you the best, Jackson. You have our blessings. And now, to everyone, we bid you good night but carry on for as long as you wish!”

Everyone in the hall chorused wishes of good night and as the King and Queen left, the music and merriment began again. While some crowded Jackson to wish him well, Captain Paul being one of them, Jackson only had eyes for one person and that person was still seated on his throne at the royal table. He would be away for months? Away from his prince? The thought, the sudden separation, it all made him want to refuse to leave. They could get someone else, couldn’t they? There were other knights. He didn’t have to go? Did he? 

Mark read the shock in Jackson’s eyes very clearly and knew that his own face betrayed his first instinct to object to his father’s words as well. 

“I’m so sorry, Mark. I would have told you earlier,” murmured Jinyoung. 

Mark heard the visiting prince but he couldn’t respond. Jackson was being congratulated but Mark saw no joy in Jackson’s eyes, and knew that his had none either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this marks the end of the second arch. there are two more to go and the next is obviously painful cause jackson and mark will be separated. i don't think the arch would last long though, as in it shouldn't have four parts unlike the previous two. i can't bear to separate them for long :)
> 
> hope you've enjoyed this second arch and hopefully, you'll still be interested enough to read the next one :D


	9. To remain loyal and faithful p.1

Jackson slumped into bed, pulling up the covers only for a few moments before kicking them aside with a huff. It was getting too warm as the heat was really reaching its nigh with the summer solstice looming around the corner. Rolling unto his back, he held his breath and stretched his arms and legs as far as they’d go before releasing all tension with a loud sigh. He didn’t have to worry about waking others up, not when he had been given a room to himself. 

He glanced around, noting the small table, closet and washstand that he had to himself just because he was a visitor to this kingdom. They treated visitors well, really well. It was really different to the guard’s quarters he usually slept in – a group of four men in four beds squeezed into a room with just enough space to give them the illusion of personal boundaries. It was much better than a squire’s quarters that he grew up of course. To have a room of his own gave Jackson an odd sense of place and he should be happy and enjoy it while he could. And he tried. Sometimes he was happy but in the dead of night when he found it difficult to sleep, his mind would drift across the many, many fields, streams and forests to the kingdom he belonged to. At times, he wishes he was home. However, whenever thoughts like that cropped up, he’d chastise himself. He had been given a great chance to prove himself and bring honour to his kingdom so he should shut up and give his all to the task given to him. 

Still, said a small voice at the back of Jackson’s mind, there was no denying he missed home.

It wasn’t that he felt uncomfortable in this kingdom. Jaebum in particular had gone out of his way to make sure Jackson was comfortable and had everything he needed. The other guards were also welcoming and quick to make friends with Jackson. Plus, it was a different place after all with different ways of life which Jackson did find interesting to learn about. It wasn’t only everyday objects that interested him but also the history of things. For example, he loved learning the history of the horses used for training such as when they were born, what they’ve been through, their little quirks. It all felt like he was making connections in an unfamiliar place so it would seem less strange. There was bird watching as well and although Jackson hadn’t met anyone who shared the same fascination for the feathered creatures that he had, he still stored information about the birds he saw so that he could tell his prince all about them later. 

His prince.

His prince was probably the main reason why he would sometimes gaze off into the distance, always to the west. Jackson had expected to miss being his prince’s guard but not to this extent. He would find himself wondering if his prince had taken his meals or whether he was holed up in his study with a newly procured book. He would imagine his prince going about his daily routine that would have returned to normalcy now that there were no longer visitors to take care off. How would he look? Would he be smiling or serious? A part of Jackson liked to fancy that his prince would probably be smiling less without him around but that would be an extremely selfish thought. He was no more and no less just a friend to his prince. A friend. Who would have taken over Jackson’s duties? He was gone for a long time so maybe they chose someone to replace him. There’ll always be others. There would be others to make his prince smile. Was that what troubled him?

Sighing again, Jackson rolled to his side and after more tossing and turning, he fell asleep. 

And so day after day Jackson’s routine stayed the same. He would wake up, get ready, head down to the mess hall for breakfast with the other guards and then proceed to training for the rest of the day until sundown. He would like to think that he was a quick learner, Jaebum already acknowledging that Jackson was getting very skilful at using the parrying sword. Jackson was working extremely hard so that him being selected for the task would not disappoint anyone. Just like that, a couple of months went by and the season crept towards autumn with its copper-toned foliage and earlier sunsets reminding everyone that winter was on the way. Shorter daylight meant shorter training times which also meant that Jackson had more free time on his hands, time that he mostly spent with the other guards, swapping stories and dreams about the future, or, occasionally, he would spend it alone, birdwatching or wrapped up in his thoughts. 

It was during one of these solitary escapades that Jaebum found Jackson at the stables along the edge of the training grounds. Jaebum had wanted to invite Jackson to his family home out in the country where he would be spending the weekend. He searched high and low for the visiting guard until a giggling and blushing maid told him that she had spotted Jackson by the stables.

“Jackson!” called Jaebum as he neared the trough that Jackson was leaning against, ankles crossed but hands preoccupied with a stalk of wheat which Jackson seemed to have been absentmindedly picking at. 

“Oh, Jaebum,” Jackson greeted with a quick smile and wave of his hand when he recognised who it was. 

“What are you doing out here all by yourself?” Jaebum was quick to notice that Jackson’s smile had faded and the mood was noticeably heavier.

“Just…” was all Jackson said, his voice trailing off with a shrug of his shoulders.

“… just?” echoed Jaebum as he also leaned against the trough, mimicking Jackson’s posture.

“Life is funny, isn’t it?” mused Jackson after a lengthy pause, his fingers picking at another grain of wheat to roll it about between his fingers until the kernel’s skin fell off. 

“Well, depends on perspective I think. Funny in what sense? Did something happen?” asked Jaebum in a light tone, trying to ease the atmosphere. He wasn’t used to seeing Jackson sombre like this outside of training. When in training, Jaebum admired the utmost seriousness and passion Jackson exuded and it had not been easy as Jaebum was trying to squeeze as much as possible into the months they had to prepare for the tournament. It was credit to Jackson that no matter how hard Jaebum had driven him, Jackson never complained. He’d just clench his jaw and work harder. Outside of training, however, Jaebum had gotten used to Jackson telling his little stories and to hear his distinct high-pitched laugh punctuating conversations in the mess hall. Really, Jackson had adapted so well that Jaebum sometimes forgot that Jackson did not belong to his guard. 

When Jackson remained silent as his fingers played with the stalk of wheat idly, during which time Jaebum began to drum his fingers on the wooden trough as he studied their surroundings, Jaebum wondered what put Jackson into this state of mind. “Jackson,” Jaebum tried again, “what’s on your mind? Really?”

Huffing a little, a small smile slipped unto Jackson’s lips from Jaebum’s persistence. “It’s just… it’s funny isn’t it? I mean, it just so happens that I call another kingdom home and you call this one home? It’s almost seems like chance. For all we know, if I had been born here, I would have been a guard here with you and serve Prince Jinyoung instead.” Jackson paused at that before sighing because he was a little embarrassed at voicing such thoughts. 

“And… does that make you feel… sad? Relieved? Happy?” asked Jaebum who was also struck by the novelty of Jackson’s train of thought. 

“Just… seems strange, really,” said Jackson, looking off at the distant trees through which the last rays of sun blazed deep vermillion. “It got me wondering what life would be like if I hadn’t met Captain Paul, if I hadn’t met-” Just as Jackson was about to mention his prince, he stopped, unable to get the words out because that was too personal a sentiment to share. Not when he himself was unsure of how he felt about the situation. Clearing his throat, Jackson tried to clarify, “I guess what I’m saying is… it’s as if we can be replaced. Someone else would have been a squire in training. Someone else would have been his royal highness’ guard. Someone else would be here talking to you. Someone other than me.”

Jaebum was silent for a while, trying to shift through Jackson’s musings to identify the core reason why the younger guard seemed so unsettled. “Are… are you saying that you don’t matter because it could just be anyone else?”

“Yeah,” said Jackson with a wry laugh at Jaebum’s succinct summary, “somewhat. Something like that.”

“Those are very abstract thoughts, Jackson. I would have never expected it of you,” Jaebum teased as he gave Jackson a light punch on the shoulder. 

“You saying I’m not capable of such things, Jaebum?” challenged Jackson playfully, glad for a distraction from his questions.

“I never said you’re not capable,” replied Jaebum with a lopsided grin, “just not expected.” Then he lapsed into silence, mulling over what seemed to be worrying Jackson. After a while and as dusk settled in around them masking everything in shades of grey, Jaebum spoke up. “It never could be anyone else though.”

“Oh?” asked Jackson, shaken out of the deep reverie he had fallen into once again. 

“For instance, have you met anyone who is similar to me? With my character? My behaviour? In how I respond to things and situations with my likes and dislikes? Even physically, have you met anyone who looks like me?” 

“Well…,” answered Jackson hesitantly, twisting the stalk of wheat around one of his fingers, “… no.”

“And there’s your answer. There isn’t another Jackson. You being you is what makes the life you lived yours. No one else would go through the same experiences you did in the same way. So there is no replacement in that sense. In fact, no one even laughs like you, you know that?” 

Jackson answered with the very laughter Jaebum was referring to. “That’s true! No one else can annoy you like I do.”

“Right,” laughed Jaebum. With his eyes disappearing into crescents accompanied by a very board grin, he clapped Jackson on the shoulder. “Want to meet my family? I’d like you to have dinner with us.”

Jackson nodded, his mood already much lighter as what Jaebum told him sank into his understanding. That’s right. There isn’t another Jackson. He was who he was and the thought comforted him. It’s just… Jackson wondered if his prince thought the same. 

* * *

The harvest festival was coming and for the first time, Jackson was celebrating it outside his kingdom. Alas, with the harvest festival came a reminder that his prince’s birthday was coming and for the first time since he met his prince, he would not be able to wish the prince happy birthday. Not when he was so far away and could not return until the tournament was held in the coming spring. 

Every year, Jackson waited for a chance to wish his prince in person and he always succeeded, sometimes in hilarious situations, but he never ever gave the prince a gift. How could he? He did not have the money to buy anything he deemed worth giving as a present. Neither did he have the skill or craftsmanship to produce anything that could pass off as one worthy of his prince. He did try though. Once, he had tried drawing but that ended horribly because instead of a hawk, the result was an indistinct shape that could only be described as a nondescript bird. Another time, he had tried moulding a small pot that would serve as a place to rest a quill but that did not work out either. It had simple been too rough and uneven to really be called a pot and Jackson certainly shuddered at the thought of it placed on his prince’s desk. Such it was that every year, Jackson tried to think of something that he could do but never did he present his poor attempts to the intended individual. 

All that was why all Jackson ever did was to wish his prince happy birthday verbally. 

But that was impossible this year and it troubled him. He did consider riding all the way back to his kingdom but he knew it was wistful thinking. Even passing messages through a messenger did not seem a good option because it was quite personal. He wanted to wish his prince happy birthday, not through the mouth of others. 

It was during one late autumn afternoon that he realised that there was something he could do. Jackson and the guards along with Jaebum were helping with the preparations of the harvest festival that would be celebrated at the end of the season. Jackson leaned back on his spade and surveyed the pit they had dug with satisfaction. It would be the foundation for multiple earth ovens that would be used to bake bread for the festival. 

“We finished first,” declared Jackson with a smirk at Jaebum and Sungjin who were just finishing theirs. Wonpil, who had been teamed with Jackson, grinned as well.

“You owe us two pints of beer,” Wonpil added, reminding them of their earlier bet. 

Jaebum glared at the two as he stuck his spade into the ground, “Yeah, yeah. At least I still beat you in sparring.”

Jackson bristled, “Hey, the last time I almost had you! Almost!”

“Almost doesn’t matter, Jackson. I still won,” said Jaebum, a contented grin made his cheeks puff up in a manner that reminded Jackson of a well-fed chipmunk. Watching Jaebum preening also did nothing to ease Jackson’s response.

“Well, if I hadn’t-” but Jackson’s rant was cut short when Prince Jinyoung approached the group. The guards bowed immediately, all talk ceasing. Jinyoung had come out to have a look at how preparations were going and also to greet the townsfolk. The mounting excitement leading up to the festival seemed to make everything more enjoyable, more purposeful and altogether more joyous so the prince had not wanted to be cooped up in the castle. Moreover, he had a message to deliver.

“How are the preparations?” asked Prince Jinyoung.

“Very well, your highness,” answered Jaebum, head still ducked in a bow. 

It was a little startling for Jinyoung to receive such a formal response with strict posture from Jaebum. He had gotten used to having his guard more relaxed around him ever since they had returned from Mark’s kingdom. It seemed like the barrier between them had disappeared and Jaebum was beginning to interact more with Jinyoung in a manner that Jaebum would never have attempted as his guard. When Jaebum made one or two jokes here and there, it had initially taken Jinyoung by surprise but after months of it, he had grown so accustomed to their banter that to have Jaebum revert back to the formal guard was jarring. 

“At ease,” said Jinyoung and the guards relaxed, looking up with polite smiles as they broke their rigid stance. “I am glad to see you helping out. The townsfolk are grateful for it,” continued Jinyoung with an approving smile. 

“Thank you, your highness,” the guards chorused. 

“Resume your duties,” and with that Jinyoung dismissed the guards and they turned away to go about their business. Jackson had approached Jaebum, still intent on finishing their earlier ‘discussion’ when Jinyoung motioned for Jackson’s attention as he approached where the two friends stood. 

“Yes, Prince Jinyoung?” Jackson asked.

“I have a message for you from Mark. He wishes you well and asks that you take care of yourself.”

Jackson blinked in surprise. “From his royal highness? But how? When? Is he here?!” asked Jackson hurriedly, getting more frantic with each short question. Could his prince really have come? Maybe? Jackson couldn’t go to his prince but there was nothing stopping his prince from coming to this kingdom. Maybe he was returning Prince Jinyoung’s visit out of courtesy. Maybe he’d get to see his prince and wish him happy birthday after all!

Jinyoung watched the wild hope blossoming on Jackson’s countenance and immediately moved to quench it, having guessed that Jackson had misunderstood him and perhaps, he hadn’t explained the situation enough. “I received a letter from Mark today regarding matters between our kingdoms. It’s just that he mentioned you and asked me to pass his wishes to you. That’s all.” He felt a little guilty at how Jackson’s gleam of hope died but there really wasn’t much he could do. In fact, it seemed that Mark could barely bring himself to write about Jackson for the prince had left mention of the guard in guise of asking about tournament preparations towards the very end of the letter with a brief request of telling Jackson to take care. That was it. Just to take care. Jinyoung wondered why Mark’s message to Jackson had been so sparse but decided that Mark probably had his reasons. If it had been Jinyoung writing the message, he would have included detailed instructions of how Jaebum was to ‘take care’ of himself – making sure he ate well, slept well, got enough rest, made time to socialise, so on and so forth which was why he found Mark’s tight lipped response a little unfeeling. Especially in light of how much Jackson yearned for something more. 

“Jackson,” Jinyoung waited until the guard whose gaze had fallen to the ground at his feet looked up. Jackson’s eyes were sad and a little disappointed which made Jinyoung want to comfort him. “Mark means well. He does want you to take care of yourself. You will, won’t you?”

Jackson nodded, uncharacteristically subdued.

“Alright then. Remember, anytime you need or want anything, please don’t hesitate to tell Jaebum or I. We really want you to feel at home here,” said Jinyoung before gesturing a good bye with a brief nod and left to head back to the castle. 

Jaebum watched Jackson carefully, noting the droop in the visiting guard’s lips and downcast eyes. “Hey,” Jaebum said, interrupting Jackson’s thoughts. Jaebum slipped his arm around Jackson’s shoulders before hitching it around the other’s neck, “Let’s go get dinner. I owe you beer, remember?”

It was only later that night just as Jackson was about to drift off to sleep that an idea occurred to him – an idea that was so simple and yet so wonderful, it boggled Jackson’s mind how he had never thought of it before! Springing upright in his bed, Jackson grinned into the darkness at the brilliance of it all! However, it did involve overstepping a particular boundary in the social hierarchy but Jackson was confident that he’d be able to get someone to help him and that someone was none other than Prince Jinyoung. After all, Prince Jinyoung did owe him a reward.

The next morning, Jackson did not hesitate to request an audience with the prince who was in his study as per his usual morning routine. Jinyoung granted permission, of course, and looked up encouragingly at Jackson who had sank into a bow.

“Good morning, Jackson. No training today?”

“There is training, Prince Jinyoung. But I asked to be excused for a while. It is quite urgent,” explained Jackson, rising to stand up straight. When he had told Jaebum, the guard had only hesitated for a moment before allowing Jackson to go. 

“Urgent?” echoed Jinyoung, leaning forward a little as he sat on his chair by the table in his study. “What is the matter?”

“It’s…” Jackson began to say, his fingers twitching out of nervousness before he clenched them into fists and placed them firmly behind his back. He needed to wish his prince happy birthday and that was all that mattered. Taking a deep breath, Jackson’s words gushed from his lips. “Prince Jinyoung, do you remember that you offered me a reward last time and I said I’d tell you when I think of something? Well, I have thought of something and it’s something that isn’t exactly permissible to a person of my social standing but it would mean a tremendous deal to me if you’d be willing to agree. I mean – that is – of course you can refuse and reject it because it’s not right for me to ask this of you anyway but, you see, I really have no other choice and you’re the only one I can ask and-”

After listening to the desperate rambling, Jinyoung had no choice but to hold his palm outwards to stem the verbal outburst. A slight frown had appeared on his brow because he had had to concentrate to process what Jackson was saying and the speed at which the guard to talk was no laughing matter. “Jackson, what is it that you’re asking?”

Jackson inhaled, willed himself to be direct, and said “I ask that you teach me how to write.” He then tensed his shoulders, steeling himself for rejection because guards were not supposed to learn how to read and write. That was left to those of higher social standing, those who needed to govern the country. They were the ones who had to labour to be literate while those like Jackson relied purely on muscle and brawn in their station in life. That was enough. In fact, there were those who believed that literacy should never be shared beyond the top few classes. First of all, it was believed that those from the lower social classes were simpler with lower levels of intelligence so teaching them how to read and write would be a waste of time. Secondly, they’d have no use for those skills in their lives anyway. It was a scholarly pursuit for a chosen few which was why Jackson had been fairly certain that Prince Jinyoung would argue against it but Jackson was determined to persuade the prince to say yes. 

To say that Jackson’s request surprised Jinyoung would be an understatement and the prince barely avoided gaping openly at the guard. “To write? Why? For what purpose?” Jinyoung questioned a little hesitantly, wanting to understand and also curious about Jackson’s intentions. 

Jackson debated for a moment. Should he tell Prince Jinyoung his intentions? He would certainly have to, considering what he had in mind but at the same time, it was so personal that Jackson wanted to keep it to himself as much as possible. However, he could trust Prince Jinyoung couldn’t he? Prince Jinyoung wouldn’t… laugh at him. Well, time to find out.

“I want to write a message to His Royal Highness,” Jackson told the prince, adding “it’s for his birthday,” in hopes that that would be reason enough. 

Jinyoung watched as a blush crept unto Jackson’s cheeks. While the guard did not drop his gaze, the firm set of his lips and clench of his jaw implied that he was nervous to say the least and most likely expected Jinyoung to reject him. It took Jinyoung less than a moment to realise he would never really reject Jackson, not when the guard was so earnest and sincere. He was one of the few individuals that Jinyoung was drawn to and thought of as someone akin to a friend. 

Jinyoung’s lips curved in a gentle smile, “Of course I’ll teach you.” However, the slight frown that had been wiped away at the heartfelt request returned to Jinyoung’s brow, “but writing is not an easy task to master. It takes years.” Once again, Jinyoung had to watch the hope in Jackson’s eyes die at his words and it tugged at Jinyoung’s heartstrings. There was such disappointment in Jackson’s face that Jinyoung felt he had committed a terrible wrong, as if he had snuffed out the life of something pure. “But I can still teach you,” assured Jinyoung quickly, “There are ways around it because I don’t think you have to learn everything. You can choose and focus on what you have to learn to write the message rather than learning to write proper. Of course, I can still teach you but considering Mark’s birthday is not too far off, perhaps we can concentrate on specific things?”

All too eager to believe that his wish was possible after all, Jackson nodded with enthusiasm, “When can we start? Soon? Please? I promise I’ll work extremely hard and be a good student.” Jackson’s earnestness made Jinyoung smile and between them, they worked out that Jackson would have lessons with Jinyoung in the evenings after training was over. They had to begin quickly as time was of the essence. 

Jackson’s first task was to decide what he wanted to learn first and he would rather take another lashing or stand under the hot sun for the whole day than to tell Jinyoung what he wanted to write to his prince verbatim. So he had to devise a paragraph that would contain all the words he wanted to use in his message but buried in a dull bed of seemingly disconnected sentences. Call Jackson ambitious but he wanted to write the message and not just copy it out from an example. 

 

Jinyoung found planning lessons for Jackson quite an interesting experience, especially with a student as eager as Jackson, the prince found that he dwelled on the lessons more than he could have. They began with the alphabet and Jinyoung tried to get Jackson to recognise the sounds that each letter made. 

“Mark, for example, has an M, A, R and K because that’s how you say his name,” Jinyoung explained when Jackson had wanted to start straight away with the paragraph. The prince tried reasoning with Jackson to show why learning the alphabet was important. 

“Can’t I learn that later?” whined Jackson who was beginning to slump on the stool positioned by Jinyoung’s table in his study. 

“No,” said Jinyoung decisively, “You learn this first or no more writing lessons.”

Jackson stopped himself from pouting and reluctantly nodded. Thus, he concentrated on writing each letter over and over, again and again. Most of them were alright but the letter ‘S’ was giving him problems. It was such a swift curve that whatever he produced ended up looking extremely clumsy. His arms and fingers were used to sweeping and large movements so these minute, careful and all together refined pressures and tilt of fingers were frustrating. It was such a delicate task. He wanted to move his whole arm to do it but Jinyoung was firm. Only his fingers could move for they were to control the quill. Jinyoung was adamant that whatever Jackson learned, he’d be able to do it properly. 

“Try again,” Jinyoung encouraged Jackson and with a huff, Jackson bit his lip in concentration and glared hard at the nib of the quill on the piece of parchment. The first curve was fine but when he was required to change direction, the drag of the quill once again produced a misshapen S. Seeing the failed result made Jackson growl under his breath. He much preferred the letter L, even A, and M. Anything that did not require intricate curves. For some reason, Jinyoung found Jackson’s frustrations adorable for it made Jackson crinkle his nose, stare daggers at the harmless quill, bit his lower lip and at one point, Jackson even stuck his tongue out to concentrate. Watching Jackson throwing all of his effort into this also made Jinyoung sympathise with the guard. 

“Here,” said Jinyoung as he pulled his chair closer so that they sat side by side. He placed his hand on Jackson’s and gently guided him into the movements necessary to write the letter with practised ease. “See,” Jinyoung remarked as their hands and fingers moved together to trace the letter on parchment, “it’s not that difficult.” 

“Hmm,” Jackson hummed. With the prince’s hand guiding him in the unfamiliar strokes, it really didn’t seem as daunting as he thought. “Again, please?” asked Jackson and Jinyoung consented, using the pressure of his fingers to guide Jackson’s own in the shift of movement needed to accomplish the task. “Maybe, maybe I can do this,” murmured Jackson in hushed amazement, this time moving his fingers on his own though Jinyoung’s hand was still placed encouragingly on his.

Jinyoung had been watching Jackson closely thus far, their heads now only a palm’s length apart. They were so close to each other that Jackson’s every eyelash was defined and Jinyoung could certainly feel the air stir as Jackson breathed. Then, all of a sudden, Jackson turned his head with a bright smile on his face with an enthusiastic declaration of “I can do this” but it wasn’t Jackson’s grin that made Jinyoung take a sudden intake of breath. It was the revelation of the myriad glints of brown that overlapped and mingled together to form the depth of Jackson’s eyes that were now wide and staring back at him. The moment seemed to linger, his eyes searching Jackson’s and Jackson’s watching his own, bewildered. Quickly, Jinyoung’s mind worked to find an excuse, for something that would tide over such an awkward situation and the prince blurted out the first thing he could think of, “You’ve got some crust in your eyes.”

Jackson blinked and hastily yanked his hand out from under Jinyoung’s grasp to wipe at the corner of his eyes. Great, just great. There he was, stunned by the sudden proximity and intent gaze in the prince’s eyes and all the prince was doing was staring at his lack of hygiene. He really should wash his face more carefully. Not knowing what to say, Jackson turned back to the parchment, picked up the quill again and executed a much finer S than he had accomplished thus far. 

“I think this is fine. What’s next?” he asked, quill poised and expectant. His eyes flickered to Jinyoung’s hand, indicating that the prince should pick up his quill and continue the lesson. Jinyoung marvelled at Jackson’s single-mindedness. When the guard had a task at hand, he was bound to carry it through which began to help Jinyoung make sense of things, especially in regards to Jackson’s relationship with Mark. Could it be? Jinyoung had his suspicions and made a mental note to find out if it were true. 

 

Over the next few weeks, Jackson worked diligently to master the sentences that he had meticulously planned for his purposes when Jinyoung suggested a test. Jackson would transcribe sentences that Jinyoung fashioned based on the words he had learned and Jackson agreed to do it for it would be a validation of the work he had put in all these evenings. He studied for it, writing the words over and over again with a quill but on the wooden surface of the small table in his room. He practised on any surface for that matter because he hadn’t wanted to waste parchment. They were expensive and meant for actual usage, not for a guard to scratch out words which Jackson did believe were getting more and more acceptable in terms of appearance. Of course, it had none of Jinyoung’s elegant hand.

Jinyoung looked back on the lessons with the satisfaction felt by a mentor. He took pride in how much Jackson had learned, how painstakingly he’d make sure that every stroke fit, how Jackson had cursed at the similarities between C and G as well as O and Q because all that differentiated them was a small tail. Jinyoung remembered how Jackson complained about W because it was more a double V than a double U. Seeing all this, Jinyoung had decided not to bother with lowercase letters because it would only confuse Jackson further at this point. Apart from all that, it often brought a smile to Jinyoung’s face when he recalled how Jackson reacted when the guard found out that his name and Mark’s shared similar letters.

“We both have A and K! In the same places!” exclaimed Jackson who seemed as excited as a five-year-old who had been given his favourite dessert in the entire kingdom. He insisted on learning Jinyoung and Jaebum’s names after that as well though they were not in the list of sentences he had planned. “All three of us start with J! What are the odds of that?!” cried Jackson, eagerly practising their names to commit them to memory. 

Needless to say, Jackson passed the test though there were a few errors here and there but all in all, Jackson felt ready to write his prince a message. After requesting for a piece of parchment and eliciting a promise from Jinyoung to include Jackson’s message in the next letter he sent to Mark, Jackson prepared himself to write the letter.

Sitting at the small table in his room, parchment all ready, a quill loaned to him by Jinyoung dipped in ink and almost touching the parchment’s surface, Jackson took a deep breath. The candle at his table was the only source of light in the room and for a long while after Jackson first wrote the letter T, there was only the sound of controlled breathing and scratching of the quill’s nib on parchment. 

TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE MARK

(Jinyoung had insisted that Jackson address Mark by name because that was the format of writing letters. ‘You need to write the name of the person you’re sending the letter to,’ Jinyoung had said. Jackson was still reluctant because once again, using his prince’s name spoke of a familiarity that he had no part of. Jinyoung argued against Jackson’s wishes, persuading Jackson by suggesting that just using ‘His royal highness’ could refer to anyone, even to Jinyoung. Jackson had to make it clear. And so Jackson came to terms with it. It was still an odd feeling to write M A R and K but at this point, Jackson just took pride that he could spell his prince’s name. It was an accomplishment that he found satisfaction in)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

(Jackson grinned, knowing that he spelled that with absolute accuracy)

I AM SORY I CAN NOT TELL YOU IN PERSON BUT IN WRITING,

(Jackson was still unsure about fullstops because Jinyoung’s explanations about sentences confused him. What would be a full sentence? How would he know? And it got even more complicated thanks to things like commas. Jinyoung’s advice to put a comma in places where he’d paused in speech and full stops for longer pauses did not really work because of Jackson’s natural speech just went on and on. It was complete when whatever he wanted to say ended so that’s what he stuck with)

PLEASE FORGIVE MY WRITING,

(forgive was so much easier to remember than ‘excuse’)

ITS NOT PERFECT WRITING BUT I REALLY WANT TO TELL YOU HAPPY BIRTHDAY,

IM TAKING CARE OF MYSELF HOPE YOU ARE TOO,

I HAVE A LOT TO TELL YOU LATER I HOPE YOU ARE WELL,

SINCERELY JACKSON

After what seemed like ages, at least long enough for the candle to be reduced to a mere stub, Jackson reached the end. Letting out a loud groan, Jackson’s tired and strained fingers dropped the quill and flexed. He rolled his shoulders that had probably been tensed the entire time. His back hurt and he had to blink multiple times to focus after staring at the parchment so closely that his nose almost brushed the page. 

He picked up the parchment and except for a few crosses here and there because some words that he had trouble spelling but overall, he was satisfied. He had only dared ask for one piece of parchment for his intentions and though not perfect it will have to do. At least the S’s looked like the letter S even though he had tried his best to avoid them. He laid it carefully on his desk for the ink to dry completely. He’d fold it in the morning and pass it to Prince Jinyoung as soon as he could. He didn’t want others to read it, let alone get the prince in trouble because he had taught Jackson how to write. It was to be a secret between them. Only Jaebum knew what was going on because he had cornered Jackson in the visiting guard’s bedroom one night and demanded to know what he was doing in Prince Jinyoung’s study so often. Jackson told him readily because even though others were not meant to know, Jaebum was different. Moreover, Jackson wanted to share his excitement at being able to write a little with someone he now regarded as a brother. To Jackson, it was something to grin about but he had no idea why an expression of blissful relief blanketed Jaebum’s face. When he asked, Jaebum merely shook his head saying it was nothing and then had told Jackson that he was glad the visiting guard had found a way around his worry.

Exhausted from his efforts, Jackson fell asleep and the next day, gleefully handed the folded piece of parchment to the prince. The carrier pigeon to be used for the mission was ready in the prince’s study as well as Jinyoung’s own letter to Mark.

“Thank you so much for offering to send this. I am truly grateful, Prince Jinyoung,” Jackson said.

“It’s my pleasure, Jackson,” replied Jinyoung as he offered some wax to the guard.

Jackson glanced at the red stick in Jinyoung’s hand. “What is that?”

“Why, don’t you want to seal your letter, Jackson? So that others won’t read it?”

“Oh!” uttered Jackson in surprise, his eyes wide. “Is that how it’s done?”

Jinyoung had to laugh at Jackson’s innocent wonderment. “Yes. And since you do not have a seal, you could carve anything you want on it before it hardens. Do you know what you’d like to mark it with?”

Jackson only had to think for a little while, “I do. I’m ready.” Jackson watched as Jinyoung melted the wax, eyes following the drops of red molten liquid as it formed a blotch where the parchment fold lay. 

“Quickly,” urged Jinyoung after flattening the pool of wax with a blank seal.

Jackson quickly picked up the quill he had in his hands and scrawled the letter J in his first attempts at embellished handwriting. The result was not as elegant as what he had in mind but he felt a sense of ownership in seeing his mark on the letter intended for his prince.

Once the wax had hardened, Jinyoung picked up Jackson’s letter, tied it with string together with his and secured it to the homing pigeon. At Jinyoung’s invitation, Jackson held the bird together with the prince and at the window, released it into the air at the count of three. Jackson watched as the pigeon flew off and with it, Jackson whispered a prayer for safe travels so that his message would arrive in time for his prince’s birthday. 

Jinyoung glanced at Jackson’s hopeful eyes and unlike him, slipped his arm around Jackson’s shoulders. “Mark will be very happy,” Jinyoung commented to Jackson who turned to look at the prince. 

“I hope so,” replied Jackson, his eyes quickly returning to the pigeon that was now only a speck in the sky, “from the bottom of my soul,” continued Jackson in a hushed murmur, his eyes adorned by a bright glitter that tugged at Jinyoung’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mainly Jackson's point of view. Mark's reaction to his letter and the separation will be in the next part of this story. 
> 
> i'm sorry there isn't much markson but i felt the need to focus on jackson trying to understand his feelings cause it WILL be tested in the next chapter courtesy of Jinyoung (clue is in the title hehehe)


	10. To remain loyal and faithful p.2

Once again, Mark suggested that the Captains add a detail to their plans on the raid they were planning. The intensive discussions involved advisors, captains and soldiers from two kingdoms for it was determined that they would eradicate their problems with the ruffians once and for all.

“Just there. Add more archers on higher ground at this point. It might help cage them in rather than function as a purely precautionary measure,” said Mark, pointing to the highly detailed hand drawn map that they were clustered round. 

An advisor from Jinyoung’s kingdom nodded, “That is worth considering. Do you have enough men, Sir Paul?”

And onwards the discussion went. Things were being finalised and there was a lot of organisation because the armies of both kingdoms had to work in perfect synchronisation. They had to strike at the exact same time, otherwise the plan would fail. 

At dinner, King Raymond directed a comment to Mark, his son, who seemed to be somewhat preoccupied with his thoughts. 

“You’ve been quite involved of late,” said the King. The Queen smiled because she knew that behind her husband’s simple statement lay a lot of pride in how their son had been handling himself the past few months. From what she could glean from the little that Mark would tell her was that he had found a new motivation and desire to learn how to govern the land. Though she did not know what caused Mark to change, she also shared her husband’s pride in their son who was gaining more and more respect from other members of the Court. They were beginning to see Mark as more than just a prince but as one who would rule the kingdom.

Mark looked up, startled out of his reverie, but quickly gathered himself without any noticeable sign that he was caught off guard. Not really knowing how to respond, he reacted in the same manner he always had with a “Yes, father,” accompanied with a small nod.

It was King Raymond’s turn to give his son a proud smile, one that was not seen very often for the King had often been worried about Mark. The Prince had rarely shown interest in affairs of the kingdom and had seemed to just go through the motions because it was what was expected of his station in society. The King had watched his son carefully and though he could not fault him for any lack of duty as Mark usually did everything in detail, the king could tell that his son’s heart was not in it. Mark used to sit on his throne as their kingdom folk requested an audience but Mark would not truly see them as his regard had mostly been out of polite interest. Mark used to also sit in meetings and listen but Mark would not engage. 

Now, however, Mark changed. There was a purpose in everything he did and it showed in the effort he put in. It seemed that it wasn’t about just fulfilling a role anymore. It was about being the best that he could be and King Raymond’s anxious heart had been put at ease. Now, the King decided, now he could truly share matters of governance with his son.

Dinner continued with small chatter and light topics of conversation until it was time to retire. While Mark bid his parents good night as always, the King reached out to hold Mark’s shoulder. 

“I’m glad, my son. And proud of you.”

This time, Mark could not hide his surprise. His father was rarely so expressive towards him. Mark blinked and instinctively thanked his father for the kind words while the words still echoed in his head. Looking at his father, he could see that there was something in the way his father looked at him that had changed. However, Mark didn’t ask. He was sure that if he were to know, his father would tell him in due time. Mark had grown more aware that his father kept certain matters to himself, most likely to not want to burden his young shoulders with worries but also, perhaps, and this was one of the reasons why Mark had exerted himself so much these days, perhaps his father thought he was not yet fit to rule. Just like that whole matter concerning Jackson.

The more Mark thought about Jackson’s selection for the tournament, the more it seemed strange. Participation in a tournament would have likely involved discussions with Captain Paul. It should have taken one conversation or a couple at most to decide on who to send. In fact, there would usually be a tournament in the kingdom to identify the best fighter in the land. Instead, everything was conducted in secret conversations between Jinyoung and his father and it was not only one conversation, it was many – of all which they had not let Mark be a part of. Mark was sure there was another agenda at stake but his father had chosen to keep him in the dark. But not for long. Mark was determined to gain his father’s trust and in so doing, learn to truly govern the kingdom. 

Mark let out an uncharacteristically loud sigh as he snuffed out a candle before he climbed into bed. Just as his thoughts were about to turn to a particular individual, he reprimanded himself and resolutely began to recite the kingdom’s laws that he knew by heart. It was a dull exercise and usually was enough to lull him to sleep but recently, this method was ineffective. He had gotten through the entire law twice and still found himself awake. 

Again, another sigh and Mark turned to lie on his back, his eyes wide awake as he gazed unseeingly at the folded drapes of his four poster bed above him. Maybe he shouldn’t have thought about Jackson before trying to sleep. Indeed, he shouldn’t have been thinking about Jackson at all. Anyone who had half a mind would scoff at the idea of a prince missing a guard but to Mark… 

 

There was a time that Yugyeom had tripped over his own feet which caused the basin of water the page had held in his hands to fly through the air and its contents emptied all over a castle guard standing nearby. Mark had looked over his shoulder to steal a glance at Jackson. He knew that Jackson would not be able to resist the hilarity of the guard, shocked and dripping wet, as well as how Yugyeom was red in the face and stumbling over an apology in haste of expressing it. Jackson would either have his hand clamped over his mouth to stop the ever-ready laughter from pouring out or already be visibly bent over, shoulders shaking in silent mirth. When Mark’s eyes met those of the man on his right, he realised he was looking at a stranger. Jackson wasn’t on his right. Jackson wasn’t there. The laugh and smile that he had felt spreading on his face disappeared and Mark felt like he was the one drenched in cold water.

 

There was a time when Mark had been out riding for leisure. Unconsciously, he had taken the path that led to the river on that fateful day when Jinyoung had been in danger. Spotting the tree that had served as the finishing line for Jackson and himself, he remembered that Jackson had yet to ask what he wanted as a reward for winning the race. “Jack-” Mark began to say as he turned his head to look behind him but the guard’s name died on his lips. It wasn’t Jackson riding behind him even though it was the same horse. In Mark’s state of mind, even the horse seemed a little crestfallen that it wasn’t her usual rider. 

 

There was a time when Mark had been idly gazing out at the castle’s gardens and forests beyond the castle wall through his study’s window. He had just finished reading a particularly difficult essay that argued about whether truth should be placed above honour and thought he needed a break to think about what he had read. However, instead of pouring over the ideas, his mind had gradually emptied to be replaced by nothingness as he gave himself over to his sense of sight and sound. He watched the trees sway in the breeze, the bright heads of flowers providing dots of colour in the garden. He listened to the breeze also as it blew. He felt it on his skin and so he closed his eyes as he leaned both arms on the window sill and used them to prop up his head. Then he heard it. 

“Ka ka,” came a bird’s call. 

Mark’s eyes flew open and tore through the trees in the garden, searching for the feathered creature. He spotted it and without thinking, ran to his room door to yank it open, all too ready to ask Jackson to come and see but, once again, it wasn’t Jackson standing outside his study. Instead of feeling any embarrassment at the guard’s surprised look, Mark only felt disgruntled. 

“Your royal highness!” saluted the guard. 

Mark just looked at him, pulled his head back into his study and closed the door. 

 

… Anyone who had half a mind would scoff at the idea of a prince missing a guard but to Mark, Jackson was more than a guard and Jackson’s absence only served to confirm the idea more and more. Jackson was someone whom Mark could always share a laugh with. Jackson was someone who enabled Mark to actually forget that he was Prince for a while. It wasn’t that Mark forgot his station but instead of being the crown prince of the kingdom with the weight of future governance and expectations on his shoulders, Mark revelled in being able to just be Jackson’s prince upon whom Jackson’s attention was focused. Jackson was someone whom Mark had shared memories with. These days, Mark was increasingly certain that Jackson was someone he wanted to continue creating memories with. 

Mark wanted Jackson to return.

The wild thought of asking for Jackson had crossed his mind but he knew it was illogical in every way. There was no excuse to ask Jackson to come back even for a short while because the tournament was drawing closer each day. Mark sighed and turned to lie down on his side, his eyes fixed on the night sky that he could see through his window. It seemed that the next time he could see Jackson was in spring the next year for his father had hinted that Mark would attend the tournament as a guest of honour representing their kingdom. Squeezing his eyes shut as an impatient huff left his lips, Mark willed himself to sleep and just accept the fact that he would just have to wait. 

 

* * *

 

Jackson wiped his hands on his breeches to soothe away the burn that had resulted from helping tie thick knots of ropes to secure one of the many tents that were scattered across the vast field just outside the castle gates. It was finally the Harvest festival and the day of Mark’s birthday. Jackson hoped that his prince had received the letter already. Though it had seemed a good idea at the time, now the fact that a bird carried his first and precious hand-written letter appeared a great gamble. Anything could happen to the carrier-pigeon – it could be injured, it could get lost, it could have been killed by a larger bird of prey or even by wild animals! There were so many variables that Jackson felt quite sick at the notion that so many things could go wrong. 

“Jackson,” came a voice calling him over his shoulder. He turned to find Yoojung, a young scullery maid of the castle, standing right behind him.

“Oh, hello Yoojung,” greeted Jackson with a smile as he brushed his hands together to get rid of the fibres that were still clinging to his fingers, “we’re just getting the tents up. The festival will start soon, I bet you’re excited about it.”

Yoojung smiled brightly at Jackson as she tipped her head upwards because she was quite a bit shorter than he was. “Thank you for helping, really. You didn’t have to, you know,” she told him, quickening her light small steps to keep pace with Jackson as they left the tent to wander around the hustle bustle of ongoing preparations.

“It’s been an absolute pleasure, honestly,” replied Jackson, turning his head to dip it in a small bow towards Yoojung. The small gesture made Yoojung giggle and her eyes flitted away to look at a cart bearing mounds of hay rather than at the visiting guard. “The festival is certainly much bigger here than back home,” Jackson commented as he clapped a passing guard on his shoulder.

“How is it back home?” asked Yoojung.

“Well, it’s also a harvest festival so there’s a lot of fun, entertainment, food, beer, quite the same as here really except-” but then Jackson’s voice trailed off a little though he continued to walk, not realising that they were nearing the edge of the festival grounds and were about to pass into a neighbouring field.

“Except?” promoted the young maid, her voice eager and attentive. When Jackson didn’t answer straightaway, she quickly skipped a few steps to stay ahead of him so that she could lean into his field of vision. “Except?”

Jackson responded with a small smile before looking down and kicking at a small stone to send it flying into the field, “At home, the harvest festival is also his royal highness’ birthday.”

“His royal highness?” repeated Yoojung, a little confused before it dawned on her, “Oh, you mean it’s Prince Mark’s birthday as well?”

Jackson gave Yoojung a smile that those who knew him closely would know wasn’t exactly cheerful. There was a hint of heaviness in his eyes and in the set of his lips but Yoojung didn’t know this. To her, he was an absolutely handsome and captivating man, a man whose words were never dull, who always seemed to live with sincerity and passion as well as with respect and honour to all around him no matter their station in life. She found Jackson truly admirable in every way and though she still fought to calm her beating heart when she was near him as the very sight of him could give her butterflies in her stomach, she could not resist trying to talk to him, to see those beautiful eyes directed at her. 

“Yes, it’s his royal highness’ birthday so there are two things to celebrate. Maybe that’s why the harvest festival seems smaller back home,” explained Jackson as he continued walking before he realised that they were heading out to a different clearing. Label Jackson conservative if you will but it would be impolite to stroll like this with a young maiden in an area that seemed deserted because people might easily misunderstand. Without a word, he changed his direction and subtly headed back to where the hustle bustle was. He really ought to pay attention to things and not be too concerned about a damn carrier pigeon. 

The short walk back was peppered with more questions from Yoojung and Jackson answered readily, even asking some questions of his own. Yoojung was a pleasant girl and certainly very sweet. She had also been kind to Jackson as she would sometimes give him sweets or other delicious morsels that she got from the kitchen. She had even given him a handkerchief that she had embroidered herself so Jackson always made extra effort in thanking her regardless of how some of the other guards teased him about him, like Wonpil for example, saying things like he should court her or that just seeing Jackson made Yoojung blush. Every time something like that came up, Jackson would wave it away with an airy hand. Ridiculous – that’s what all those ideas were, ridiculous. After all, he saw Yoojung as a younger sister. Why would Yoojung like him? Moreover, why should he court anyone? It wasn’t that he was oblivious to how a man and woman became husband and wife. While the lads around him often talked about this girl or that, Jackson usually just listened and sometimes joked along. In fact, Jackson gladly took part in teasing others if there was a reason to do so. But when it came to himself, however, Jackson had long written off that part of his life. As a knight, he would be solely devoted to his kingdom and his future king, now his prince. There was no room for courting, marriage or family. Perhaps not having memories of living with his parents contributed to Jackson’s perception that creating a family unit of one’s own was not his utmost duty or joy in life. 

Watching the preparations unfold around him with interest, he did not noticed how Yoojung had grown gradually hesitant, as if she had something to say but found it extremely hard to give it voice. She would open her mouth, glance at Jackson and then fall silent again. Jackson, on the other hand, was chattering away about the different things he found interesting, often at random without much coherence between topics. 

Yoojung willed herself to be brave for the umpteenth time and unlike other instances, she was determined to act. Promising herself that she would tell Jackson now, at that moment, her lips that had been set in a determined line parted to ask for the visiting guard’s attention. “Jack-”

“Jackson!” called another voice and Yoojung clamped her lips shut as Jaebum took a step towards them. 

“Jaebum!” answered Jackson with a gleeful shout, his arm raised high in a wave. A beckoning wave from his friend and Jackson was off to see what Jaebum wanted at that moment. “I’ve got to go, Yoojung. See you later! Maybe when the festival starts proper,” he said with a cheerful smile and hurried over to Jaebum before Yoojung could even reply. 

Yoojung’s hand that had been raised too late to grasp Jackson’s sleeve dropped to her side but her disappointment was short. She squared her shoulders, the determined set of her lips in place again. She would tell Jackson before the evening ended. She would confess her feelings.

 

* * *

 

In the lead up to Mark’s birthday, the raid on the ruffians had been carried out and it was ultimately successful. They had captured most of the outlaws while posters asking villagers to look out the remaining few who managed to evade capture were distributed throughout both kingdoms. Mark himself had rode out with his father to the main command post despite Captain Paul’s objections of how King Raymond should stay within the castle but King Raymond was nothing if not one who would take an active part in things that concerned his citizens. Unable to dissuade the King, Captain Paul had remained close, hovering by the king’s side even as he issued orders to the combined forces of both kingdoms. There was a protective stubborn glint in Captain Paul’s eyes and the way the captain was never beyond two steps away from the king reminded Mark of Jackson. 

When Mark and Jackson had snuck out to the town fair, Jackson had kept very close to Mark. They had even held hands and Mark remembered how it felt to slide his hand into that of Jackson’s own which was made coarse by constant training. He remembered the brush of skin, of palm against palm. He remembered how Jackson’s hold had tightened when the guard interlaced their fingers together. He could recall the increase of warmth he had felt when their hands were joined. In view of the danger at that point in time, it was astounding how much Mark remembered. Though he was presently at the command post with his father nearby, Mark felt his hand twitch at the memory of Jackson’s touch, longing to hold the guard’s hand once more. 

However, he had to brush those memories that now brought him more pain than pleasant warmth aside and focus on the raid. Despite of one or two mishaps, the plan was a success and the people of both kingdoms had more reason to celebrate the harvest.

And so it was, on the last day of the harvest festival as well as Mark’s birthday, the prince was found sitting on his throne to receive the gifts sent to him. Even though it was not required and Mark certainly had shown no inclination for it, members of royalty and nobility from their own kingdom and those abroad chose to present the gifts personally. The prince was astute enough to realise that those in attendance which only increased in number year by year wanted to gain his favour especially as he grew order. Now that he was closer to inheriting the crown, he found the increase of female visitors tiresome for no matter how he just wished to be left alone, he had to be polite. He was as distant and detached as he could without being insulting but that did nothing to deter the batting eyelashes and stifled giggles that were supposed to be becoming. It was anything but attractive to Mark. It was false, it was pretentious and it made his skin crawl. All this was internal though. Outwardly, he was a crown prince who received his gifts and thanked his (unwanted) guests. 

During one of the lulls at his birthday feast which seemed even more tedious than usual, he beckoned to Yugyeom who approached Mark’s throne in a low bow. 

“Your royal highness?” asked the page.

“Tell me a joke,” said Mark in a voice loud enough for only Yugyeom to hear. It was his birthday feast. It was meant to be a happy occasion and he should be smiling if not laughing on this day especially with his proud parents greeting guests as they mingled with the nobility.

“Wha-?” gasped Yugyeom who was completely thrown at the sudden request. He must have misunderstood, “Your royal highness?”

“Make me laugh,” Mark rephrased, turning his head slightly from the general direction of the hall towards Yugyeom. He could see how flustered the page was but Mark could not find it in him to relieve Yugyeom of his order, not when his own heart was so heavy.

“I-,” Yugyeom tried, raking his memory for something funny as he stood up a little so that he was not bent in a sharp bow, “Alright. Let me try.” Yugyeom cleared his throat. “Why did the scarecrow win an award?”

Mark’s eyes that had drifted away from the page as he waited for a joke flickered back to Yugyeom, “A scarecrow? Win an award?”

“Yes, your royal highness,” Yugyeom confirmed with firm nods though his lips were already quivering with the obvious desire to laugh.

Mark was silent for a while as he thought about it but could not really arrive at any plausible response. “A scarecrow is a lifeless object. How can it win an award?” he asked the page.

“Hmph,” snorted Yugyeom who bit his lower lip to stop himself from laughing before he gave his prince the answer. “Because,” Yugyeom paused dramatically, “because he was outstanding in his field!” 

All Mark could do was observe the wide toothy grin plastered on his page’s face for he did not feel like laughing at all. Letting out a small sigh, he leaned back in his throne, shoulders slumping ever so slightly. 

Yugyeom’s smile disappeared at the prince’s lack of response. He stood up straight and coughed into his raised hand to cover his embarrassment. Of course the prince wouldn’t find it funny. In fact, the prince rarely smiled at all these days and Yugyeom was sure he knew why. He sighed a little himself for he missed Jackson too. 

“Your highness, I’ll tell you something I remember instead. There was one day, a few years back I believe, there was one day when Jackson had woken up screaming because of a huge spider.” Yugyeom watched as interest sparked in his prince’s eyes. Encouraged, Yugyeom continued the story of how when Jackson was still a squire, he had been stirred awake from deep sleep by what seemed to be soft touches. Realising that whatever was brushing his cheeks was slightly hairy, the squire thought that his roommates were playing a trick on him by using a feather of some sort. When he had opened his eyes, however, he found out it was a spider and so, “he woke the whole barracks by screaming at the top of his lungs! In Jackson’s haste to get away from the creature, he leapt over the sleeping bodies of the squires who shared the same room, even managing to tread on one of them. All the time, he was screaming gibberish and no one understood why. Then one of them sounded the alarm thinking that they were under attack,” said Yugyeom, chuckling loudly now as he recalled how the other squires were red in the face with laughter while Jackson’s cheeks had been crimson from shame as the others eagerly told the servants what had happened.

Glancing at his prince, he found Mark smiling at last. 

“I was not aware that happened,” Mark commented, his voice much lighter than it had been of late. The difference it made to the prince’s countenance that had been far too serious and solemn was noticeable as well. 

“You know Jackson, your royal highness. These are stories he’d rather not share himself,” grinned Yugyeom. 

Mark nodded in agreement and when someone else sought his attention, he found that it was much easier to smile. As he received congratulatory wishes and contributed to conversations more willingly, he found himself wondering why just hearing about something Jackson had done had had such an effect on him. Committing Yugyeom’s little story to his memory, Mark stored it away to pour over later when he was left alone which was usually the time he missed Jackson the most. 

The feast over, Mark retired to his bedchamber. As he loosened the knots on his outercoat, his ears picked up some rustling sounds and a pigeon’s coo. He looked up at his desk and saw that it was a homing pigeon. It must have flown into his room because he kept the window open and him closing the door upon entering must have startled it. Most pigeons would have flown to a designated coop within the castle and then the letter dispatched to the addressee via servants but this one was Mark’s personal feathered messenger. 

He had last written to Jinyoung a while back and part of Mark was eager to read the reply but the other part of him did not want to. Jinyoung being Jinyoung, the sharp observer that he was, had seemed to make an effort to include more news of what Jackson was doing. Mark was thankful for the updates but at the same time, Mark found himself resentful of the fact that Jinyoung was the one to witness Jackson’s little escapades. Jinyoung was the one who heard Jackson’s stories and related them to Mark. Jinyoung also often mentioned how hardworking Jackson was, how he seemed to be settling in very well and was enjoying himself even in a strange environment. From the way Jinyoung wrote about Jackson, it seemed that the neighbouring prince was watching Jackson quite closely.

That idea somehow made Mark nervous. What if Jinyong also noticed how endearing Jackson was? Moreover, what if… what if Jackson also noticed Jinyoung? He acknowledged that Jinyoung was very charming if he wanted to be and since that barrier between them had eased, Mark now knew that Jinyoung was a good person as well. Oh, why couldn’t Mark have Jinyoung’s eloquence? Jinyoung always seemed to know what to say and when to say things and… since Jackson liked to talk, Mark could not stop himself from wondering if Jackson enjoyed Jinyoung’s company more. What if… what if Jackson liked being in Jinyoung’s kingdom so much that he did not want to come back? After all, there was nothing tying Jackson to Mark’s kingdom. Jackson had no family, no land and no responsibility except for being a guard. He had friends, yes, but knowing Jackson, the guard would have made new friends already with those he had just met. 

Come to think of it, had he told Jackson how much he enjoyed the guard’s company? A frown etched itself on Mark’s brow as he tried to remember ever expressing how much he liked having Jackson at his side. He had called Jackson a friend once but ever since then, had he ever spoken about how important Jackson was to him? Sudden anxiety gripped his heart when it occurred to him that if others expressed that very notion of treasuring Jackson, would Jackson then choose to follow that person instead? Mark gulped, a horrible thought clouded his mind – what if Jackson was only serving Mark out of duty? Because he felt that he had to rather than willingly choose to do so? If that were the case, then wouldn’t it be easy for Jackson to serve someone else? Wouldn’t that mean someone else could replace Mark as the object of Jackson’s servitude?

If Jinyoung, for example, told Jackson how much he liked watching Jackson’s eyes glitter with life and good-humour, how he adored the way Jackson’s facial expressions would often give away what the guard truly felt and thought, how hearing Jackson’s infectious laugh could chase away the darkest and most sullen thoughts… If someone told Jackson all that, would Jackson feel obliged to reciprocate those feelings?

A horrible sinking feeling started to pool in Mark’s gut once more. He hated such moments when his mind entertained thoughts about Jackson leaving and never returning. He just… he did not want to think about it but his subconscious always hauled his fear to the surface when he was not focused. 

Looking at the letter in his hand now that he had sent his bird back into the night air for it to roost with the others, Mark felt that he did not want to read Jinyoung’s letter. Maybe he’d keep it for later and so Mark placed it on the table and readied himself for bed. As he pattered about his room, however, his eyes kept glancing at it. The temptation of hearing more about Jackson finally outweighed his resentment. Also realised that he wouldn’t be able to sleep with it unopened, Mark picked it up and slit the string that bound the tightly folded parchment. To his surprise, it contained two letters. He picked up the larger one and recognised Jinyoung’s crest. Laying it aside, he picked up the other much smaller one. Whatever could it be? He peered at the scrawled symbol carved into the wax but did not recognise it at all. Curious, he broke it and unfolded the small piece of parchment. 

Whose writing was this? It looked like a child’s penmanship in its uneven lettering and irregular lines. Now who – but Mark’s questions halted as he realised what his eyes were reading. The first time he reached the end of the letter, his eyes froze as he stared at the name. Was it really? But he didn’t know how to write, certainly? Was it truly? He read through the letter again, looking for some proof that it was Jackson. There was nothing of Jackson’s usual wordiness but the sincerity and earnestness that rang through every line etched so hard on the surface that it almost pierced the parchment spoke of Jackson. The simple words that said so much more did seem like Jackson, a Jackson who was being forced to limit himself in his speech but oh, it was Jackson to the core. 

Mark’s eyes jumped between the birthday wish, his name at the beginning of the letter and Jackson’s name at the end. He did not know how long he stood by his desk as he devoured everything that could be gleaned from that one piece of parchment. He found himself even tracing the creases and edges that Jackson’s fingers had pressed into the letter as well as the impatient corrections that Jackson possibly thought marred his message but Mark treasured every bit of it. He could imagine Jackson furiously crossing out his mistakes and in a way, every error made the letter that more precious because it showed him more of Jackson. Finally turning back to the seal, he brushed his thumb over it, tracing the uneven surface through his sense of touch. Mark now saw that it was vaguely the letter J.

“Jackson,” Mark exhaled softly, his fingers now holding the parchment carefully as if any added pressure would destroy it. Realising that he had been so engrossed in the letter that his feet and body had grown cold, he moved to get into bed but placed Jackson’s letter in a drawer of his bedstand. While his body had to be warmed up under the heavy covers, his heart needed no such help. He felt warm, comforted, happy – almost as if he had already swelled with such exuberant feelings that anymore would cause him to burst into song, even if it wasn’t his nature to sing. He also felt light, weightless – was this how it felt to fly?

 

* * *

 

The end of the Harvest festival in Jinyoung’s kingdom was truly a sight to behold. It was a night of merriment, laughter, high spirits and all in all, a time of celebration. Jackson was sometimes in the thick of it all, screaming out bawdy songs at the top of his lungs with the other guards, challenging Jaebum in simple silly games that were held throughout the evening and even joining in the less complicated dances and even bravely attempting a few difficult ones that involved more spinning and twirling than Jackson could handle. 

As the excitement finally died down a little quite a while after midnight, Jackson had wandered off to a quieter part of the grounds. He felt light-headed but his feet were heavy. He might have had too much to drink and he could barely keep his eyes open. He yawned, peered at the crowd for Jaebum to tell him that he was calling it a night but he did not spot his friend. Deciding nevertheless to make his way back to his room, he walked along the castle wall to make his way towards one of the side doors. He could have taken a shorter route across the grounds but he did not want to be dragged into another dance or another game. He just wanted to sleep.

Hand brushing along the stone wall, he used it to keep himself upright as he placed one foot in front of the other but his path was blocked by something. Odd, thought Jackson, his brow furrowing. There shouldn’t be any obstacle here, at least he didn’t think so, and certainly not an obstacle that looked like two shoes at the foot of a column. Column? Now that certainly didn’t belong by the castle walls. 

Dragging his eyes up, he realised that the column was a dress and that it was a girl who was standing in his way. Squinting a little, he recognised that it was Yoojung. He should say something, he supposed, like why wasn’t she dancing or laughing with her friends. Or perhaps he could ask why she was staring at him in such a strange manner, the lines of her face taut but flushed. She must have had a little too much to drink as well. Right, he could tease her about that.

Just as Jackson was about to speak, Yoojung took another step towards him, effectively closing the distance between them so that they were only half an arm’s length apart. Blinking, Jackson tried to focus, wanting to take a step back because he was suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the proximity. 

“Jackson,” said Yoojung, her eyes searching his face but for what? Jackson had not the least clue what her expression meant. Then her face came closer as she stood on the tips of her toes, her fingers resting on the sleeves of his forearms. 

“Jackson,” she said again, this time in a softer voice as she glanced at his lips before looking up at him again. She was really gazing at him and again, Jackson felt like he wanted to step back. She was getting too close, her face was getting too close. Why wasn’t she stopping? Why was she doing this? He watched her close her eyes but she was still coming closer, her lips now slightly puckered. 

'WHAT IS HAPPENING?!' screamed Jackson in his mind, eyes wide and all drowsiness gone. Just an instant more before their lips made contact, Jackson heard someone yell his name. It broke him out of his stance and Jackson gladly grasped at a reason to turn away from Yoojung. 

“Prince Jinyoung?” murmured Jackson as he recognised the prince who was now approaching them. But why did the prince look shocked and upset? Jackson glanced at Yoojung who had taken a few steps back and whose head was now bowed, her hands clasped tightly together. Her shoulders were trembling and he thought he distinctly heard a sniffle.

“Jackson!” barked Jinyoung, his voice uncharacteristically harsh. “Follow me,” he ordered, turning on his heels and beginning to walk away. Jackson heard Yoojung leave in hurried steps and he glanced in her direction to see her disappear behind the castle entrance he had been aiming for. Part of him wanted to make sure she was alright. As Jackson tried to make up his mind what to do, he heard Jinyoung speak again. 

“Come with me. Now,” said the prince and Jackson’s training as a guard kicked in. He obeyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again i'm sorry for the long wait but this seems to be the pace i'm stuck at.... i'm still aiming for more than 6000 words per chapter which means it takes me even longer to finish writing. 
> 
> i know i said i wouldn't keep them separated for long but the next one will be the last! promise!
> 
> edit: hi! i changed the last part! as you've all indicated, making jinyoung angry was over the top. he's shocked, yes, but not angry. :) you'll find out why in the next chapter :D


	11. To remain loyal and faithful p.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jinyoung breaks boundaries

Jinyoung had been enjoying the festivities and though him being crown prince meant that he couldn’t really raise a ruckus with the others even though he wanted to, he was satisfied in watching those he saw on a daily basis relax and shake off their usual cares. Jaebum, in particular, looked carefree and the flushed cheeks, no doubt due to copious amounts of beer, made the guard’s complexion even redder in the light of the various open fires and torches that were used to light up the grounds. Jinyoung himself was stuck at a table with the other nobility of his kingdom and of course, with the king and queen. His parents retired early as per usual but he stayed. He stayed because he was looking forward to the quiet and more comfortable calm that came after the fervour died down. In previous years, it had been the time when he had been able to talk to Jaebum as it was one of the only times the guard was adequately shaken out of his usual stoic demeanour as a guard to actually express himself. Obviously, the drinks helped. And this year, with the level of companionship they had reached, Jinyoung could not help but think it’ll be different. 

So he watched and waited. Finally, people started leaving, especially those who still had to wake up to tend to their fields and livestock for neither plants nor animals celebrated the end of a fruitful season. Jinyoung’s eyes scanned the few remaining attendees and spotted Jackson in the shadows, staggering a little on his feet. 

Jinyoung grinned. Teasing Jackson as a lightweight drinker would mean quite a bit of fun especially with the guard’s usual fearless bravado. Just an instant before his eyes left Jackson to look for the one whom he really wanted to see, he caught sight of a girl approaching Jackson. The grin on his lips fell slightly as he made sense of what was happening. Jinyoung acted on instinct. His only thought was that whatever seemed would happen should be prevented. 

When the girl took a step closer, Jinyoung stood up.

When the girl stood on tiptoe, Jinyoung ran.

When the girl was about to close the distance entirely, Jinyoung yelled. 

For some reason, the sight of Jackson and a girl almost kissing made him upset. The visiting guard had just stood there like a statue, as if he were waiting for it to happen. He wrenched Jackson away from the situation with a glower. It was unreasonable, surely? What was it in Jinyoung’s soul that made him want to balk at the thought? Why was he so upset at Jackson’s behaviour?

And then it clicked. 

Jinyoung had admired Jackson for his loyalty to only one individual who walked the face of the earth yet there Jackson had stood, standing stock still for a girl to kiss him. Was Jackson’s heart that wayward? What of that look that he had given Mark when they were by the river? Did that look of utter devotion mean nothing? He had not thought of Jackson to be easily swayed by any pretty, young thing. He remembered that when he watched the visiting guard try his best to learn how to write in an unbelievably short time, his heart had been warmed by how much effort Jackson had put in just because he wanted to wish Mark happy birthday. He had found himself admiring how Jackson’s devotion was so pure, so untainted and so precious. To suddenly see him about to negate all that was outrageous. That was probably why he had reacted the way he did.

Having reasoned out his irrational behaviour, Jinyoung stopped walking to take a deep breath, calming himself as well as gathering his thoughts. What should he say or do now that he had called Jackson so unceremoniously out from the grounds? He couldn’t possibly tell the guard his true reason for being upset but how else could he react? Frowning now as his mind worked to think of something, he turned around fully expecting to see Jackson standing at attention next to him. What he saw, however, was an empty hallway. Where was he?

Jinyoung listened carefully for footsteps but there were none. The castle itself had fallen largely silent for it was truly well into the night and most had retired to their respective beds so where was Jackson? Jinyoung retraced his steps down a long flight of stairs and rounded the corner to find Jackson doubled over, back hunched as if in pain.

“Jackson,” called Jinyoung in a soft voice that stood in contrast to the harsh tone he had used earlier. Crouching down to place a hand on Jackson’s back, he asked, “Are you alright?”

The answer the prince received was a suppressed retch as Jackson’s body trembled. Jackson was clearly having trouble keeping his drink down and Jinyoung recoiled though he kept the tips of his fingers on Jackson’s back, trying to soothe him in some way. Wishing for help to come, he looked up to see Jaebum enter his field of vision. 

“Jaebum!” said Jinyoung, ever so glad to see his guard. Standing up, he gestured to Jackson who had all but collapsed on the stone floor. “Help him.”

Jaebum’s sharp eyes that Jinyoung realise belatedly had been tinged with uncertainty shifted to rest on Jackson’s form. “Hey,” Jaebum said, kneeling next to Jackson who uttered a tight-lipped groan. “I’ve got you,” Jaebum assured Jackson as he tried to help the visiting guard stand to his feet. With a nod at Jinyoung, Jaebum shuffled off in a hurry with Jackson as fast as they could go because it was obvious that Jackson was not going to be able to stop himself from regurgitating all he had had that evening and it was something Jaebum did not want his prince to witness. In fact, he didn’t want to either and if he had thought any less of Jackson, Jaebum would have gladly handed him over to someone else but since it was Jackson... Hence, Jaebum hauled Jackson into the visiting guard’s room, shoved a pot under his chin and waited while patting Jackson’s back as he tried not to breathe. 

 

***

 

The next few days, Jinyoung saw no sign of Jackson who seemed to be avoiding him as much as he could. According to what he gathered from Jaebum, Jackson had suffered the after-effects of overdrinking for the first time in his young life and returned to training only the next day. Even so, that did not explain why Jackson was so skittish every time he came within sight of the prince. Jinyoung knew there was an unsettled issue between them and nothing short of an order would get Jackson in his presence long enough to deal with it. It was something he had not even told Jaebum for he felt it to private of a matter to Jackson and if Jackson had not said anything, he was not going to either. 

Jinyoung had been wondering how to broach the subject and had half a mind to just let bygones be bygones and perhaps settle with the idea that it’ll never be resolved if not for a letter he received from Mark.

 

_To Jinyoung,  
Thank you for the letter you sent me. It is, as always, a pleasure to hear about the going-on’s in your kingdom. _

(and so it went on as Mark conscientiously replied to the bits and pieces Jinyoung had written about. It would have been like any other letter except for what Mark added towards the end)

_I wish especially to thank you for delivering Jackson’s letter to me. It was a surprise to say the least and I was hoping you could tell me how far along Jackson has come in his reading and writing. Is he able to read a letter on his own? How many words does he know and can he reply independently? It seems from your previous letter that you had tutored him on specific words. Are those words limited to the ones he used in his letter? Has he learned more since? And, should I wish to write a letter to him, would you be so willing as to pass it on to him? I know I’m taking advantage of your kindness but it would bring me great pleasure if you’d kindly consent._

_Please do let me know as soon as you can._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Mark_

From Mark’s handwriting in the last paragraph that seemed hasty and less reserved than the usually controlled nib of his quill, Jinyoung could sense Mark’s excitement. It was a rare display. In fact, Jinyoung had no recollection of Mark being this eager about anything and to be able to feel it through ink on a parchment – it was clear that Jackson meant a lot to Mark and yet, there Jackson had been a few days ago, about to kiss someone else, about to betray the affection that Mark clearly had in regards to Jackson. 

Could it be that Jackson had no idea how he felt about Mark? That was really one of the more plausible reasons at this point. Mark himself seemed aware quite aware and was trying his best to control it. Though Mark was doing well in concealing it, however, the special care he had for Jackson was noticeable. At least to Jinyoung it was. Perhaps Mark was just good at hiding it from Jackson? It boggled the mind to think that Jackson had not understood. Perhaps that was the problem – Jackson just did not know? But surely he must have felt something and Jinyoung’s mind always went back to the expression Jackson had on his face when he had gazed at Mark by the river. There had to be something special. 

Perhaps all Jackson needed was a little prodding to remove the veil from his eyes but then again, Jinyoung felt that he had to make sure that Jackson did indeed feel something for Mark. Otherwise, it’d be a sham and he’d ruin whatever that was good between the guard and the other prince. He would have to tread carefully.

The first thing he did was to resume the writing lessons for it was Mark’s wish and he wanted to see if Jackson was willing to continue the effort or was the birthday wish the end of his intentions. Jinyoung could tell that Jackson was uncomfortable as the guard stood before him. He had ordered his page to get Jackson and now that the guard was present, he still avoided eye contact. It was the first time Jinyoung had had a good look at Jackson since the harvest festival and the prince did not notice any difference in Jackson’s countenance except for an odd emptiness of expression as if Jackson was intentionally stopping himself from revealing any form of emotion. 

“Jackson,” Jinyoung said. It was the first word uttered into the silence that had descended on his study since Jackson had come in and given him a royal salute. The guard, dressed in his training attire, had stood as still as a statue and devoid of his usual expressiveness. Jinyoung found it quite disconcerting.

“Prince Jinyoung,” clipped Jackson at a tone one would expect of a guard – any guard. And it irked him. Jackson wasn’t just any guard. Jackson was more than that to the prince. Jinyoung quickly stopped a frown from forming. It won’t do to show any sign of displeasure especially in light of the unresolved issue between them.

“I received a reply from Mark,” said Jinyoung. His questions about Jackson’s attachment to Mark dissipated a little when he saw how the mention of Mark’s name made Jackson’s eyes flicker, breaking the stoic expression on the guard’s face. Still, Jinyoung wanted more confirmation which was why he allowed a prolonged pause to enter the conversation. He waited… waited until he saw Jackson’s lips move before being pressed together. He could see the guard was dying to ask about Mark’s reply and only then did he continue. 

“Mark says to thank you for your wishes and he wonders if you would like to continue writing to him,” Jinyoung saw Jackson startle at this point, surprised out of his statue-like stance. “He wishes to write to you as well and would like you to read them on your own. Of course, if you don’t wish to do-” 

“I want to, Prince Jinyoung. I do want to,” gushed Jackson, interrupting Jinyoung in haste. To think that his prince wanted to continue receiving his letters – with the unsightly writing and horrible errors – Jackson’s happiness flooded his eyes, his lips breaking into a slightly tremulous smile. “I really want to!”

Jinyoung studied Jackson’s eagerness with an odd sense of satisfaction. Jackson did seem to be strongly attached to Mark. Now the question was, how strongly?

“Very well. The letters may be passed through me as per the previous occasion. You, however,” Jinyoung said, looking squarely at Jackson whose excited demeanour quelled a little in fear of admonishment, “will have to continue with the writing lessons. We’ll have to add reading to the list as well. The more words you can recognise, the better and easier it would be for you to correspond with Mark. When would you like to begin?”

Again, Jackson pressed his lips together an instant after he had opened them to respond to Jinyoung’s question. Jackson fidgeted, his fingers picking at the hem of his tunic, his gaze slightly downcast. It was clear to the prince that Jackson was debating about something, there was some struggle in the guard’s mind. Jackson had been so eager to write to Mark, why was he hesitating now? Jinyoung decided to wait it out. He propped his elbow on his study table and rested his chin on the palm of his hand, all the while keeping his gaze mostly on Jackson who by now was looking at the floor. Just as Jinyoung was going to release a sigh, he heard Jackson speak but in such a meek voice that Jinyoung could not be sure it was him let alone catch what he said.

“What did you say, Jackson?” Jinyoung asked, sitting up straight again.

Jackson glanced at the prince, chewed on his lower lip, ground the tip of his shoe into a crevice in the stone floor and took a deep breath to repeat the question that had taken him a long time to utter. “Are you… angry?” asked Jackson, dropping his eyes immediately from the prince’s face back to the floor again.

Jinyoung had to blink for he was surprised at the question. “Angry?” repeated the prince for clarity.

Jackson nodded before adding with a gulp, “with me?”

It was then that Jinyoung realised Jackson did not understand why he had been so upset that night of the harvest festival. There was no possibility Jackson could have known what Jinyoung had come to realise and to think it was that fear that had kept Jackson so nervous. The prince made a note to himself to not keep too many of his thoughts inside him especially if it caused misunderstanding. It just had been his nature not to share with others, often, he realised, it was because he didn’t trust them or didn’t deem them worthy of his confidence. But now, he was beginning to see the value of doing so. It wasn’t a weakness to share and neither are the things he said going to be turned against him by those he trusted with his life. 

Jinyoung looked at Jackson with softer eyes and shook his head gently, “No, Jackson. I am not angry at you.” Jinyoung saw the quick glance Jackson threw his way before the guard looked down again, apparently unconvinced. “I am not angry, truly. I might have been upset but never angry,” Jinyoung tried to explain but he didn’t know how to tell Jackson that it was because it seemed that Jackson’s affections towards Mark were being questioned. 

“Why then?” asked Jackson, glancing up through his eyelashes as his chin remained tucked in because he still didn’t dare look directly at Jinyoung.

“I –,” Jinyoung hesitated for a second, wondering whether or not to tell Jackson then and there about what had been bothering him. Upon careful inspection of Jackson’s expression, however, Jinyoung decided that it was a subject better broached at another time. After all, Jinyoung still had to make certain of things and the birth of a plan was already forming. He needed to iron it out first. “I just had a lot on my mind, Jackson, I really was not angry at you.”

Jackson glanced up one more time, swallowed and then lifted his head to give Jinyoung a weak smile. “I’m glad, Prince Jinyoung. I wouldn’t want to make you angry. If I ever do though, please tell me and I’ll fix it,” declared Jackson, his usual upbeat demeanour returning with every word.

“I will keep that in mind, Jackson,” replied Jinyoung with a smile. “And now, about your lessons…” It was important that the lessons continued – Jinyoung’s plans depended on it. 

 

***

 

And so the lessons proceeded, interspersed between an even tighter training schedule that Jaebum had drawn up for the tournament was closer. It was a month away and Jinyoung could see that Jaebum and Jackson’s nerves were beginning to show. Jinyoung had utter confidence in Jaebum. How could he not? Jaebum had already been a formidable fighter and now his guard had increased his skills, agility and strength to the point that no one, not even the most experienced knights in their kingdom, could best him without using every ounce of strength and cunning. Jackson had also improved by leaps and bounds. Having watched the two guards spar recently, Jinyoung marvelled at the difference between them then and the time they had faced each other in Mark’s kingdom. 

Because Jackson had been quite stressed, Jinyoung had hesitated in his plans. With every lesson, however, Jinyoung tried to probe deeper into Jackson’s thoughts and feelings towards Mark. Yet all Jinyoung’s carefully phrased questions and comments made in order to elicit a telling response from Jackson seemed to confirm was that Jackson felt an intense loyalty and devotion to his prince. There was still no hint of those emotions crossing beyond what a guard would feel for his master. 

Jinyoung was now impatient. 

The letters between Mark and Jackson had continued all this while and Jinyoung could tell that Jackson’s replies were gradually getting longer and longer, so were Mark’s. They’d always pass through his hands sealed and it never ever occurred to him to read these private letters but that did not stop him from wondering what they were writing about. Jackson was also progressing in his reading and writing. He could handle most of the simpler poems and shorter texts by now (Jackson seemed to have an ear for rhymes and took to poetry quite well) and Jinyoung had to think about what books to next read with Jackson. There were a few times that Jackson had been forced to ask Jinyoung what a particular word meant and at first, the guard would try to get around it by asking about words that might sound similar to or look like the word he had in mind. Though the guessing game was frustrating in those moments, Jinyoung found Jackson’s desire to keep as much of Mark’s letter to himself quite endearing; frustrating, but endearing.

Jinyoung decided to take action during a particular lesson weeks away from the tournament. There would be far less lessons after this because Jaebum had consulted Jinyoung privately and they both agreed that all efforts had to be put into winning the tournament. There was a lot on stake – more than anyone aside from a selected few were aware of. They had to win. 

And so it was that if Jinyoung were to help Mark by helping Jackson realise that his affection for his prince was more than just a guard’s loyalty, it had to be now. Jinyoung looked over at Jackson’s parchment where he was in the midst of copying the last paragraph of a book in front of him. Jinyoung believed that reading words and writing them out would help Jackson remember better and Jackson also found it useful so he was focusing hard on what he was doing. 

Jackson wanted to write more in his letters to Mark. He knew the next couple of letters, most likely it’ll only be one letter, would be the last he would write. Jackson knew he would miss this, the chance of writing to his prince. After the tournament, he would resume his duties as Mark’s guard and there would be no more letter writing. Why write letters when he could see his prince in the flesh? To be able to see his prince’s smile, tiny frowns, annoyed furrowing of his brows – to hear his prince laugh and speak – what more could he ask for? It’s just… letter writing was so personal and every stroke of his quill’s nib seemed to demonstrate the effort and care he put into this. It was finally something he could do to show how much he cherished his prince. Besides, his penmanship was much better now. The curves were more regular, his nib didn’t bite into the parchment anymore and his hand no longer cramped up after long periods of writing. 

‘Now or never,’ thought Jinyoung.

“Jackson,” Jinyoung said in an effort to keep his tone casual so as to not arouse any suspicion. 

“Yes, Prince Jinyoung,” Jackson replied in the midst of biting his tongue as he concentrated on a ridiculously difficult word to spell. Why was the word ‘impossible’ so impossible?

“Have you… have you ever fallen in love?” There – Jinyoung said it. He finally said it. The word ‘love’.

Jackson’s quill stopped and he looked up at Jinyoung from where he had been sitting hunched over his parchment. The guard blinked owlishly, trying to understand the question that the prince had asked him out of the blue. “L-love?”

“Yes, Jackson. Love.”

“I – I don’t,” Jackson paused, his brow furrowed as he thought about the 22 years of life he had led. “I don’t think so?” Jackson replied, his answer more a question than anything else. “As in, I don’t know?” 

Love. What was it? Jackson had heard people talk about love, how falling in love would change one’s life. How the emotion was powerful enough that it turned the wisest men into fools. How it was the most beautiful thing in existence. Sure, the squires he had trained with declared they had fallen in love with this maiden or that every once in a while. Like Nicholas, for example. The memory of Nicholas climbing a garden wall to declare his undying love for a girl in the village only to have the girl’s father douse his friend in a bucket of rainwater still brought tears of laughter to his eyes. The thing was Jackson had never felt the need to do anything like that for any of the girls he had met. He thought it silly, really. Besides, he had a far greater responsibility to carry out than to woo girls. Then it struck Jackson.

“Is this about Yoojung again?” asked Jackson. Prince Jinyoung had already asked him quite a few times about what he thought of her and Jackson had explained time and time again that he saw her as a sister and nothing more. Actually, come to think of it, he wasn’t so sure anymore because ever since the night of the harvest festival, he had barely seen the maid around. 

“Well, it is not about Yoojung,” mused Jinyoung, “but then again, in a way, it is.”

Jackson stared hard at the prince. “Prince Jinyoung, please don’t speak in riddles. You know I’m not intelligent enough to understand those things.”

Jinyoung gave a dismissive hmph. “Oh, you are smart, Jackson. It’s just… perhaps you are intelligent in certain ways but of other things, you know nothing of.”

It was Jackson’s turn to emit a dismissive hmph. “I don’t know a lot of things,” Jackson admitted all too readily, the serious look he had earlier replaced with a silly grin, “because I don’t have to. I know what I have to do and I do it. That’s enough for me.” With that, Jackson turned back to his parchment and adjusted the quill’s position in his hand after dipping it briefly into an ink bottle nearby.

“But to not know love, Jackson,” insisted Jinyoung, his hand actually coming up to rest on Jackson’s wrist so that the guard would stop writing, “why would you want to live without knowing about love?”

Jackson bit back an impatient huff. He wanted to finish the lesson for today and then return to his room so that he could go to bed. Tomorrow’s training would be extra hard, Jaebum had already told him, well, actually warned him many times. “I’ve been fine without it so far. I’ll be fine,” replied Jackson, shifting his arm so that Prince Jinyoung would hopefully get the hint and allow him to continue writing. He couldn’t possibly shove the prince’s hand away. He was only a visiting guard for goodness sake.

“No, Jackson. Human beings search for love. It’s innate. It’s in our nature,” said Jinyoung, his fingers tightening their grip on Jackson’s hand. “Maybe, maybe,” Jinyoung continued before leaning forwards to look right into Jackson’s startled eyes, “maybe you’ve been in love but haven’t realised it.”

This caused Jackson to sputter. When Jinyoung had leaned in so close, Jackson had felt his entire body brace for impact of some sort, which was really quite a nonsensical reaction really. What was Jinyoung going to do? He would never hit Jackson, in fact, Jackson was pretty sure that he wouldn’t budge even if Jinyoung shoved him with all his might. However, that didn’t stop Jackson from feeling apprehensive. Actually, he felt threatened for some reason, especially with Jinyoung’s inquisitive and sharp eyes. “I-in love?” repeated Jackson disbelievingly. His first reaction was to laugh at the absurdity of Jinyoung’s suggestion and laugh he did. It was all so ridiculous! How could he be in love and not know it?! It was an insane thought and, Jackson concluded, it was time to leave. The lesson would just have to be left unfinished because what mattered then was to leave Jinyoung when the prince was in this strange mood.

Jackson stood up hastily, nudged the stool back under the table with a knock of his knee and turned around to head towards the door. “Well, bye, Prince –”

The next thing Jackson felt was a tug on his arm and when his brain caught up to what was happening, he found himself pinned against the wall of Jinyoung’s study with the prince’s hands planted on either side of his head. “Prince Jinyoung,” gasped Jackson in protest. He raised his arms to push Jinyoung out of the way but the words that Jinyoung next uttered made him freeze. 

“Are you sure?” asked the prince, his dark eyes boring into Jackson’s. Jackson felt as if the prince was examining every inch of his soul and for some reason, he really didn’t want to know what his soul was going through. Perhaps he was instinctively afraid of any revelation that could possibly change everything he knew about himself and about the world. No, he didn’t need that. He didn’t need any of it. He made to break Jinyoung’s hold again but the prince’s deep voice and searching eyes held him in place like no physical hold could. 

“Are you sure you have not been in love?” Jinyoung asked again, leaning even closer to Jackson, their faces now only a palm’s breadth apart. “Have you never felt your heart skip when you see someone you were thinking of? Have you never felt yourself suddenly feel happy at the slightest thing a particular person does? The merest hint of a smile would have you remembering the moment for days?”

As Jinyoung’s words raced through Jackson’s mind, the guard felt his heart thumping louder and louder under the prince’s penetrating scrutiny. The erratic beat resounded in his ears and he could feel the thuds coursing through his entire body but his eyes were trapped in Jinyoung’s gaze. The prince was so close. He could see the defined eyelashes and specks in his eyes before Jinyoung came impossibly closer. A moment later, Jackson was no longer looking into Jinyoung’s eyes as the prince shifted to whisper in his ear. 

“Haven’t you ever,” murmured Jinyoung, “ever thought of holding someone close? Like this?” 

Jackson felt a shiver run up and down his spine as his body trembled. He could feel the prince’s breath ghosting over the side of his neck. The hair on his nape stood on end. He tried to make sense of what he was feeling, what was happening. His hands were clenched into fists and his legs tight with tension. He wanted to run, to escape this predicament but for some reason, he stood there helpless. 

“Haven’t you ever,” Jinyoung continued, his lips close enough to brush Jackson’s ear if he just tilted his head a little more, “ever thought of touching someone? Wanting to touch the person so much that your fingers twitch and you have to fight yourself for control?”

Jackson felt like he couldn’t breathe. His chest felt tight, his lungs couldn’t draw air, his throat had closed up. He felt like he was suffocating.

“Haven’t you ever,” drawled Jinyoung as he drew back, to which Jackson was utterly grateful for but any thought of this ending was wiped away when Jinyoung’s fingers came up to lift Jackson’s chin. “Haven’t you ever wanted to kiss someone?” This time Jackson felt the wisps of air that issued from Jinyoung’s mouth crawl over his skin. Why was the prince acting like this?! WHY?!

“Haven’t you ever thought of someone’s lips?” Jinyoung tipped Jackson’s chin higher, drawing a gasp from the guard. The prince’s eyes bored into his and all Jackson could do was pray that this torture would end.

“Haven’t you ever found your eyes trace the shape of someone’s face? Search for a blush on someone’s cheeks? Or even,” urged Jinyoung, his voice almost guttural, “wondered how their lips feel like?” 

Jackson watched in horror when the prince’s tongue appeared for a moment to wet its owner’s lips. It shocked Jackson into words, instantly begging, “No, Prince Jinyoung. Please, please stop.” He raised an elbow to Jinyoung’s chest in order to push him away but again, his attempt was halted, this time by Jinyoung’s hand wrapping around his neck. 

“Don’t you want to kiss me then, Jackson?” countered the prince, not backing away the slightest. Instead, he leaned closer until their noses touched which caused the guard to take a sharp intake of breath.

“No, no I don’t. I don’t,” pleaded Jackson as he tried to squirm out of Jinyoung’ grasp, “I don’t want to.” 

Jinyoung could hear the tremble in Jackson’s voice and see the beginnings of tears in Jackson’s eyes. Alright, he had pushed far enough. It was time to wake Jackson up. “Then who do you want to kiss?” 

“I – I don’t – ”

“If you tell me, I’ll let you go,” Jinyoung promised solemnly. There was no hint of jest on the prince’s face. He had taken a risk to behave like this. He had gone beyond what he was comfortable with and deliberately broke all boundaries in his friendship with Jackson. “Whose lips do you wish for? Who would you want standing here instead of me?” prompted Jinyoung.

“I’d-I’d want…” Jackson’s voice trailed off as a vivid memory filled his mind. The time by the river. The time when Jackson’s eyes had lingered on every curve of his prince’s face, the slant of his nose, the slope of his brow, the shape of his lips that were always pink but different shades of pink. It couldn’t be… it just – 

Jinyoung watched as dawning realisation spread on the guard’s face. Jackson look stunned, bewildered, but Jinyoung could tell someone had come to mind. He waited but all Jackson did was to breathe hard, the guard’s eyes unfocused and then it occurred to Jinyoung that Jackson might be trying to reason away what his subconscious mind had finally revealed to him. That can’t happen. Not after all this. 

“Is it Mark?”

Jackson’s eyes snapped up in shock. They gazed at each other for a moment, suspended in time and all of a sudden, Jackson had pushed Jinyoung out of the way and wrenched the door of the study open. Jackson was gone but not before Jinyoung had read the expression on Jackson’s face.

It was one of realisation – dreaded realisation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry about the long gap in posting... :( 
> 
> and i'm also sorry this chapter isn't so long...


	12. To fight with valor and sacrifice p.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A way out

Jackson’s knees hit the ground and the only thing stopping him from falling flat on the trampled mud were his aching palms planted in the muck. He was gasping for breath as beads of sweat rolled down his face, he could actually see them dripping down to mix with the brown soil that had been moistened by early spring rain. The guard squeezed his eyes shut to gather his wits, gulping air and willing his arms not to give out. This last leg of training was more than severe – it was hell.

Jaebum watched as Jackson crouched low on the ground, the visiting guard’s back bowed as he fought for air. Jaebum was no better. His legs had barely any energy left in them to keep him upright. In fact, he was leaning his weight on his sword that he had stabbed into the ground next to him. It was another duel and this time, Jaebum won again but it was because he knew Jackson was distracted. For the last couple of weeks Jackson seemed to have something on his mind which made him faze out at odd times much to his disadvantage. This was one of those times. Jaebum had managed a well angled blow to Jackson’s abdomen which was what had brought the visiting guard to his knees. And Jaebum was frustrated. At any other time, he knew Jackson would have countered the blow and so he had not held back in his swing but there his opponent was, on the ground, defeated. If this happened in the tournament, all would be lost. 

The thought chilled him and the fear caused Jaebum to march over to where Jackson was to give him a stronger than necessary nudge to the other’s side with his shin. “Get up, Jackson,” Jaebum said but the guard merely rolled over and lay spread out on the ground. He studied Jackson’s face but could see nothing except exhaustion. “What wrong with you?” Jaebum demanded. 

Opening his eyes, Jackson chose not to turn his head to look at Jaebum though his friend was practically towering over him. Instead, Jackson looked up at the sky, overcast in grey because of darkened clouds. It was probably going to rain again. 

“You’ve been losing focus far too often. What is it?” asked Jaebum, exasperation bleeding into his voice.

‘What is it?’ thought Jackson, ‘everything.’ Everything that he thought he knew about himself had now become uncertain. His very motive and foundation upon which he built his purpose in life was in question. Everything in his life had become mixed up, complex. Everything, Jackson wanted to answer but he couldn’t. 

“If you continue being like this, you won’t win,” Jaebum challenged Jackson, trying to ignite the fighting spirit that he had so admired about the younger guard. 

‘I know I won’t be able to fight like this. I know I should handle this. I should get over this,’ thought Jackson, again answering only in his mind so Jaebum never heard his responses. ‘But how? There are so many things that I can’t figure out. I’ve trained, fought and desired nothing more than to be a knight. It was out of loyalty, utter loyalty. At least I that’s what I thought but now,’ groaned Jackson, ‘is it because of love?’

That was the problem. That was the Gordian knot he could not untie. Love? He felt guilty, like he had done his prince wrong. Who was he to love the prince? He was a mere guard, an orphan with unknown origins. Someone who got into trouble more often than not. No matter how hard he trained or how good he became at fighting, nothing of that mattered because it did nothing to mask his station in society. Love his prince? Oh, that was preposterous! Of course his prince deserved love, in fact, Jackson was ready to declare it to anyone he met and fight anyone who disagreed. His royal highness Prince Mark deserved to be loved, deserved to be adored. His prince deserved everything. 

But not from him. Not from Jackson. Jackson wasn’t worthy to love his prince. 

That very thought which often made Jackson’s heart sink into oblivion caused him to close his eyes again, to shut out Jaebum’s accusing gaze. It was always the thought of him being unworthy that made him want to retch. He felt horrible, disgusted with himself. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt that he had betrayed his prince who had trusted him as a guard, as a friend for here he was supposedly in love with someone hopelessly beyond his reach, someone he had no right to love. It all seemed so… dark. Jackson clenched his jaw to stop himself from screaming as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

Seeing Jackson lie unfeelingly on the ground right at his feet made something in the older guard snap. Jackson had deliberately chosen to disregard him one time too many.

Jaebum reached down, grasped the collar and front of Jackson’s tunic and roughly hauled the younger one to his feet. “Get a hold of yourself!” Jaebum yelled, shouting right at Jackson’s face but Jackson didn’t respond. “Where is your honour? Where is your pride?” the older guard hissed through clenched teeth. “Where is that Jackson who believed in doing his best no matter the circumstances?” but there was no response except for a further droop of Jackson’s head. Jaebum didn’t know if he wanted to punch Jackson or cry in disappointment and frustration. Probably both. There was no time for this now, there wasn’t time to select and train someone else. 

“Jackson, we need you to win the tournament. We have to. You have no idea how important this is.” Still no response. Seeing Jackson with no fight in him suddenly made Jaebum’s anger evaporate as well. Jaebum sensed that no matter how much he screamed and kicked at Jackson, the younger guard won’t return back to his former self. Jaebum heaved a sigh and placed a hand on each of Jackson’s shoulders. The younger guard just stood there, still downcast and lost. 

“Jackson,” Jaebum tried again, this time his tone was resigned, quiet but still commanding. The difference from screaming, shouting and cursing was probably what got through to the younger guard. Jaebum waited until the other finally turned to meet his eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong but you can talk to me, you know that?” asked Jaebum, dipping his head slightly so that he was eye-level with Jackson. He studied the troubled brown eyes while he tried to show his sincerity in his. He was worried about Jackson and he squeezed the younger guard’s shoulders reassuringly. 

This time, Jackson reacted. He bit his lip to stop himself from bursting into tears. All the festering confusion and doubt and guilt swirled in a horrible concoction that made Jackson want to scream his throat hoarse at the heavens. At times he thought he could just get on with life and ignore the realisation that now plagued his every waking moment. At other times, he just wanted to escape from everything, to go somewhere where no one knew his name, where nothing would remind him of his prince. At that moment, however, what Jackson wanted was a hug. Sniffling, he stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around Jaebum’s torso and buried his face in the older guard’s broad shoulder.

Jaebum was stunned but reacted instantly, one arm winding around Jackson’s body while the other reached up to rest at the back of Jackson’s head. In all the time he had known Jackson, this was the one time he felt that Jackson was truly young – young not in terms of age but in terms of his experiences. He knew Jackson’s background, for the younger could speak of it without feeling much sense of loss at having never known his parents, and Jackson often told him about interesting things that just seem to happen to him. It wasn’t that things didn’t happen to Jackson. Jackson knew about suffering and hardship. He had deep thoughts as well. That existential conversation they had by the stables was something Jaebum didn’t think he’d ever forget. Emotionally, however, Jackson was always ready to trust people, to open his heart to others, to see things in a simple uncomplicated light. If Jackson was angry, he was angry. If he was happy, he was happy. Jaebum partly admired Jackson for that but he knew things were rarely that simple. 

“I…,” murmured Jackson as his face was squashed against Jaebum’s shoulder blade, “I don’t know how to get over this.”

“This?” asked Jaebum, the fingers of his hand that had been holding Jackson’s head now started to rub the back of Jackson’s neck in hopes that it’ll urge him to talk. “What’s this?”

Jackson’s response was to grunt and press his forehead harder against Jaebum’s chest. “I can’t tell you,” said Jackson, “I just can’t.” He couldn’t tell Jaebum because he thought that the older guard would be disappointed in him. What individual with any self-respect would fall in love with a prince? There was no happy ending for such a love because there was no possibility of the prince loving someone like him back. It was all a fool’s errand and the sooner he could end his emotions the better… and yet, at the same time, he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to let go? 

When Jackson refused to say anything else, Jaebum drew back, sliding his hand along the back of Jackson’s neck to the younger’s jaw in order to lift the other’s face towards his. Jaebum saw the uncertainty, fear and large eyes that were not sparkling with life but shining because of unshed tears. “Jackson,” breathed Jaebum, his voice tender as his thumb caressed Jackson’s chin, “what’s wrong? You can tell me. I’m your friend.”

The concern that Jaebum was showing him then and there tugged at his heart. He blinked to clear away the tears as he shook his head. “Not now. Maybe, someday,” muttered Jackson, sniffling again but his arms had not fallen away from Jaebum’s body. He just needed someone to hug, someone concrete, someone who reminded Jackson that his dark thoughts were not all he had. 

Jaebum knew he couldn’t press the issue any further so he nodded, his fingers still holding Jackson’s chin so that he could tilt it downwards slightly so that Jaebum could rest his forehead against the other. “I trust you, Jackson, you know that right?” 

Jackson gulped, seeing Jaebum’s eyes that were usually sharp fill with care made the guilt in him increase and now, his soul was burdened with the awareness that he was dragging Jaebum and the other knights in training down. He was not fulfilling his responsibility as his kingdom’s representative and neither was he being a good friend to Jaebum. Jackson drew a shaky breath to calm himself, closing his eyes for a moment to gather whatever composure he had. “I know, Jaebum,” he replied before adding in a hushed voice, “and thank you.”

Completely acting on impulse, Jaebum threw both arms around Jackson and gave him the strongest hug he could as if he could squeeze the problems and anxieties out of Jackson’s body. It was only when the younger began tapping frantically on his back did he release Jackson who immediately began gulping air which Jaebum had deprived him off. 

“You…” wheezed Jackson, “a friend wouldn’t… *gasp* try to kill me.” Jackson was almost doubled over, his body sore and aching from the day’s training but the warmth and strength of Jaebum’s embrace lingered. It felt nice, it felt reassuring so the glare he shot at the other guard was a mixture of accusation as well as gratitude.

“Anytime, Jackson,” chuckled Jaebum, “anytime.” He clapped Jackson hard on the shoulder and pulled him upright again in order to sling his arm around the younger’s neck. He dragged Jackson to the mess hall and he was glad to see some life return. Whatever had bogged him down during training seemed to go away for a bit but Jaebum knew it was something Jackson had just pushed aside temporarily. That night, right before they parted ways, Jaebum gave Jackson another hug but this time, the gesture was accompanied by heavy words. 

“Jackson, you will have to get over whatever it is you’re going through by the time the tournament begins.” Jaebum looked seriously into Jackson’s eyes that were now mildly tinged with the returning anxiety. It pained Jaebum to push Jackson like this but they had no choice. Ordinarily, he would give Jackson all the personal time he needed to sort things out but this situation was urgent. Time was a luxury they could not afford. “Promise me, Jackson. Before the tournament,” repeated Jaebum.  
All Jackson could do was nod. He knew he had to work his way out of the labyrinth that had become his state of mind. He would have to, for Jaebum’s sake as well as his kingdom’s honour. Jackson made to turn away towards his bedchamber but Jaebum caught him by his shoulders again. 

“We have to win, Jackson,” insisted Jaebum, “we have to.”

Again, Jackson nodded but he was beginning to feel that Jaebum was being unkind. He was already a mess mentally and the last thing he needed was the pressure to win. He had never thought Jaebum to be the kind of individual who placed winning above sportsmanship. Even in duels, he had thought that Jaebum was motivated by a desire to compete, to test one’s skills – certainly not this overwhelming need for victory. That hadn’t mattered, Jackson thought. It was the fight and effort that counted, not who would wear the victor’s robes at the end of the tournament. Disgruntled, he shook off Jaebum’s hands, wished him good night and headed to his room. Jackson had a lot to think about.

 

***

 

Jackson was still stuck. 

He had gotten better at focusing during training but in reality, Jackson knew he was using the tournament to escape from dealing with his feelings. Ever since the last time Jaebum had basically beaten the wind out of his body, he had resolved to not disappoint his friend again. If this tournament meant so much to Jaebum, he would try his best to win it for him. Thinking about Jaebum was also helpful because with Jaebum occupying his thoughts, it left little room for someone else. This strategy worked fine when he was with Jaebum but when he was alone… when his defences were down… That was why Jackson would spend every last ounce of his energy so that he could collapse into bed and immediately drift into a dreamless sleep. 

Finally, training was over and Jaebum had ordered that all the participants rest so that their bodies would be in their best condition when the tournament began. Most of the others cheered but Jackson’s enthusiasm for a break was lacklustre. Not training meant that he wouldn’t be tired enough and not being tired meant that his sleep would be punctuated with visions of his prince’s various expressions and the sound of his laughter. Some moments had been so real that Jackson woke up with a start thinking that his prince was right there with him. When all he saw was his darkened room devoid of any living being but himself, his heart would drop and twist as if his soul were being wrung by cruel hands. 

It hurt.

If this is what love is, it hurt. 

And he would fall asleep feeling miserable, his eyes intentionally avoiding the bottom-most drawer of the dresser in his room. Right after his last lesson with Jinyoung, Jackson had rushed back to his room, removed all the letters that he had carefully arranged according to date from a drawer of his night stand, bundled them up with string, wrapped a piece of cloth around the pile and had shoved it into the furthermost reaches of a drawer he never used. Those letters that he had treasured were now evidence of his dishonesty and betrayal of his royal highness’ trust. He would never look upon them again and neither would be ever write another letter. With the package, he had placed the small leather pouch that he had worn since the day he first received it. Previously precious, it was now a stark symbol of his dishonourable intentions towards his royal highness.

Jackson didn’t talk about it to anyone. Jaebum, true to his word, did not pry but gave Jackson allowance to do and say whatever he wanted especially when a particular mood descended on the younger. All Jaebum did in those moments was to give Jackson an extra hug and tease him out of his gloominess by making jokes that were not in the least bit witty but it usually got a smile from Jackson. Or, Jaebum would grab two tankards of beer, shove one into Jackson’s hands and settle down next to the younger guard in companionable silence. Jackson was grateful because he knew that all this was Jaebum showing Jackson that if he ever did need someone, the older would be there for him. 

Little did Jackson know, Jaebum’s actions and attentiveness of late were also the result of not only his personal regard for the younger guard but also what Prince Jinyoung had told him in confidence. His prince had not said much except that Jackson had received news which he had difficulty in dealing with. Jinyoung did not tell Jaebum everything but the prince hinted enough for Jaebum to guess that it was a matter of the heart. It made Jaebum regret how harshly he had treated Jackson on the training grounds and despite resolving to be more lenient, Jackson had not put a foot wrong since. When Jaebum asked why the writing lessons were not continuing, Jackson had just shrugged and said he wanted to focus on the tournament alone. The younger guard trained the most, stayed out the longest, worked the hardest – and it all caused Jaebum to worry more. It was clear that Jackson was fighting another battle – against himself.

Four days before the start of the tournament, Jaebum stood to make an announcement in the mess hall at the start of the day. Jackson put down his plate that he had threatened to empty over Wonpil’s lap to listen, arm still slung over the other’s shoulder whom he had come to know quite well over the course of the past few months. 

“The tournament’s representatives will be arriving from this afternoon,” said Jaebum, amplifying his voice that was usually low and garbled if he didn’t feel the need to speak clearly, “I know we are resting but we have to be good hosts. I trust all of you will extend every form of courtesy to our visitors.”

Those around the table nodded. Jackson did too but not with the usual anticipation he felt when it came to meeting new people. Hearing of the other participants arriving only made the tournament more of a reality – a tournament that he was not ready emotionally and mentally ready for. Still, he reminded himself that he was the only representative from his kingdom so far and he would die rather than put his kingdom in disrepute. Thus, he was ever friendly and welcoming to the new representatives he would soon be competing with. 

He noted that most of them did not come alone. Some were accompanied by their mentors who were themselves honoured knights who have proved their mettle. Some were accompanied by fellow countrymen who were there as replacements should anything untoward befall on their chosen representative. 

It was an odd environment to be in for behind the smiles and handshakes, Jackson could see that they were all sizing each other up, trying to get a read on their opponents before the start of the tournament. It was unsettling and Jackson did not like the atmosphere. Jaebum had warned that there might be intimidation tactics before the tournament and that not everyone acted with honour though most would. It was horrible to question the intentions of others, to think about what he could say or not say in order not to give away too much of their training. It was all secretive and Jackson knew he had a tendency to just chatter so he was taking extra effort to control himself. 

Being the host kingdom, Jinyoung had organised events for the visitors who were interested in unwinding a little. While some declined because they preferred to resume training, some gladly headed down to one of the taverns for some good ale. With the intention of not allowing himself to think or be alone where he’d be engulfed in horrible thoughts, Jackson joined the group that was heading for a night out in town. 

The whole kingdom was decked for the festivities complete with a carnival and street performances by wandering troops who had travelled far and wide to be part of the event. Held every once in a few years, it was the highlight of many and tradesmen in particular were delighted. Happiest of all, however, were the innkeepers for not only were there foreign participants. People from different kingdoms came to watch the tournament as well. All in all, the harvest festival couldn’t compare to the happenings then.

Jackson made idle chatter with those he was with but he was careful not to overdo things. Ever since that night he had fallen ill because of alcohol, Jackson had developed a slight distaste for it. He could still drink but certainly not much. In the midst of nursing the one mug he was limiting himself to, his attention fell on a man who was raising a ruckus by re-enacting an adventure he had experienced with enthusiastic sound effects and actions. It involved a wild chase after an infamous and wanted fugitive through a god-forsaken woods brimming with dangerous wild animals. At one point, another man in the audience, for everyone in the tavern was listening to the man’s tale, was roped in to act as the fugitive and the story teller was giving a blow by blow account of their sword fight. 

The story itself was interesting (Jackson wondered how much of it was true and how much was exaggeration) but Jackson found watching the man interesting as well. The man’s expressiveness was something that Jackson found he could identify with. The man’s voice itself had an odd tone. It sounded very much like suppressed shouting mixed with an odd accent. He was also clearly middle-aged at the very least with a very broad square jaw and veins that were clearly etched on his extremely tanned skin. Jackson guessed that he must be one of the mentors for the man seemed too old to participate in the tournament but had the physique of a man who still trained regularly. 

The story ended and those in the tavern sank back into scattered conversations, or bawdy laughter depending on the number of drained tankards. Jackson, however, had not left his seat that he had taken from when he first walked into the tavern. It was close to the fireplace that the innkeeper still kept going because spring nights were still chilly and at the moment, the corner where Jackson was sitting was deserted. His friends or the other visitors had wandered off to talk to others while Jackson just couldn’t bring himself to do so. Even though he had come with the intention of forgetting his problems, his mind flitted back to his encounters with his prince. When did his feelings start changing? When did he begin to think of his prince as more than just a superior? When did he begin to desire to be someone special? 

Jackson had to swallow a glug of drink in guilt as his eyes stared at the glowing red embers of the fire. When did he disgrace the prince by actually loving him?   
So engrossed was he in his thoughts that he did not notice when someone came to sit beside him. In fact, he would have continued being ignorant of his new neighbour had not the individual deliberately nudged his arm with enough force to slosh some of the drink unto his lap. Startled with a yelp, he looked next to him to find that it was the man who had been telling the story just now. 

“H-hi,” stammered Jackson, realising how tall and big the man seemed.

“Hey there,” the man replied before breaking into a wide grin. “What are you doing here all by your lonesome self?”

“Lone – oh, my friends are right there,” Jackson answered as he gestured with a hand towards where Wonpil and the others were gathered around a table, probably listening to another story. 

“No, I mean alone now,” explained the man who in turn gestured at the empty corner Jackson had occupied. 

“Oh, that,” responded Jackson. As he was thinking of the reason why he wasn’t in the thick of things, he remembered what had caused him to drown in sullen silence. His expression must have darkened visibly because the man deliberately made to interrupt his thoughts.

“Name’s Joon,” said the man, sticking out a hand for a handshake. 

After only a moment’s hesitation, just enough to pull himself out of his reverie, Jackson grasps Joon’s hand. He noted that the man’s grip was very firm and there was much strength in his wrist. He must be a great knight. For the first time since Joon came to sit next to him, Jackson studied Joon’s features. Before this, he had been mildly interested in the man as a storyteller. Now, he was interested in who Joon was. 

“Nice to meet you, Joon. I’m Jackson,” he replied.

“Jackson eh? Nice name,” Joon quipped. “You’re one of the representatives, aren’t you?” When Jackson nodded an affirmative, Joon smirked, “Well I bet my lad Taecyeon will be tough competition. He’s the one over there,” said Joon, pointing towards one of the tallest men in the room, complete with broad shoulders and strapping figure. 

“Oh,” Jackson responded, “He seems like a good fighter.” With the compliment, Jackson gave Joon a small smile that was somewhat forced before looking back at the fire. If it had been any other time, Jackson would have bombarded Joon with questions about his background, his place of origin, about Taecyeon and the like but at that moment, Jackson just did not feel like himself. Thus, in spite of his slight curiosity before, Jackson couldn’t bring himself to continue the conversation.

Joon allowed Jackson to be silent for a while before suddenly clapping Jackson hard on the shoulder. 

“Ow,” yelped Jackson, both in surprise and pain because the clap had been quite strong. Was Joon being deliberately mean or did the man not know his own strength? Pouting, he asked, “What was that for?”

“Tsk,” Joon replied with a click of his tongue and leaned back against the wall as he stretched his arms up high before folding them behind his head as a makeshift pillow. “You’ve got a problem,” Joon stated, “and that’s not going to help you in the tournament.”

Jackson could not hold back a bitter scoff. Most people who looked long enough would be able to see that. Of course he was not in a good state to fight. He had been fairly stable during training but there was no telling how he would react in a pressured situation especially in a duel fought in front of a large audience which included royalty like – Jackson’s stomach squirmed unpleasantly. He felt the bile rise in his throat again and… and he just did not know what to do. Pretending he was alright did not help and he was not sure if talking to people would. He had come out tonight to not be left alone with his thoughts but now, for some illogical reason, he wished that Joon would leave so that he could be alone again. 

“You won’t be able to fight well like this,” Joon repeated when Jackson kept silent. 

That got a response out of Jackson who retorted in a cutting tone, “That’s all the better for your representative, is it not?” Jackson’s eyes remained fixed on the fire ahead of them. 

The older man was oddly undeterred by the sullen reaction. Indeed, his concern grew deeper as he watched Jackson’s eyes fill with an emotion that seemed very much like anger but at what and at whom, Joon had no idea. It tugged at his conscience to see a young man so troubled.

“I won’t want Taecyeon to win against an opponent who did not try his best,” Joon commented without a hint of annoyance in his voice. He tried to make his voice warm, open, in hopes of encouraging Jackson to talk. 

Joon’s unexpected reaction made Jackson feel guilty instantly. How could he act without courtesy to others just because he was not able to manage his emotional state? Especially to a visitor as well as an experienced knight of another kingdom. Swallowing, Jackson apologised in a clear voice, tearing his gaze away from the fire to see that the other’s expression was gentle. It was a contrast to the loud and exuberant demeanour Joon had had when he had been telling his story and also a contrast to the strong features of his face. 

Joon clapped Jackson’s shoulder with the palm of his hand again but this time, it was kinder. Jackson knew the gesture meant that there were no hard feelings and Joon had not taken offense. Relieved that at least Jackson did not have to go to bed with another thing weighing on his mind, he gave Joon a more sincere smile but it lasted only for a moment before his head hung low again. 

“Hey,” said Joon, shaking Jackson’s shoulder slightly, “if you need someone to listen, you can talk to me, got that?”

Jackson turned his head to look at Joon who offered his time so sincerely. “Thank you.” 

Joon nodded and with a firmer grasp of Jackson’s shoulder as a good bye, the older man got up and ambled over to where Taecyeon was. 

Jackson watched him go and Joon slung an arm over Taecyeon’s shoulders even though his representative was clearly that much taller than him for the gesture to be completely comfortable. The gesture seemed fatherly to Jackson and it reminded him of Captain Paul whom he missed after being away for so long. Maybe that’s whom he needed right now. A father figure who had experienced more in life which most likely included falling in and out of ‘love’, someone who could give Jackson some perspective about this whole thing. However, he knew he wouldn’t be able to tell Captain Paul about his emotional turmoil – not when his royal highness was the object of it. Jackson groaned as the haze descended upon his consciousness again. This won’t do. He couldn’t let this continue any longer. At the very least, he could not represent his kingdom by performing badly. He especially could not disappoint Jaebum who wanted to win so badly.

Maybe he would take Joon up on his offer after all.

 

***

 

Jackson sought for the most opportune moment to approach Joon and when evening came the next day, the young guard managed to ask the man out to the edge of the castle grounds where the stables were. 

“Do we have to talk here?” complained Joon who had wrinkled his nose at the stench of a pile of mess nearby. It wasn’t so bad in winter but as spring wore on and the weather got warmer, the stench grew stronger as well.

“Oh,” Jackson said, not realising that Joon might be uncomfortable with the place. He had assumed that Joon would be used to the smell. Jackson didn’t really mind it, perhaps he might have developed an immunity to it already. “We can take a walk then? Across the fields?”

Joon nodded in agreement and off they went. They walked on in silence for quite a while. The sound of long grass rustling as they moved accompanied by the sounds of nature as the day drew to a close were all that Joon heard. He glanced at Jackson whose face was still as troubled as it had been yesterday. What was it that could weigh down the spirit of a young man like this? He waited. He had time after all. He did not bear active duty as a knight for this visit and as a trainer, he had nothing else to do because Taecyeon was more than capable of taking care of himself. Speaking of which, Taecyeon better not be goofing off somewhere. He’d better be doing something productive like scouting out the competition field, checking the firmness of the soil whether there would be grip. Speaking of which, he should be doing that too. Maybe later – 

A muffled sound from Jackson drew Joon’s attention who realised guiltily that the young one had been trying to address him for a few moments. Abashed, he gave Jackson an apologetic smile and encouraged Jackson to speak again with an interested ‘hmm’.

Jackson cleared his throat. He was actually glad Joon had not heard his miserable initial attempt at voicing his worry. He had spent most of the previous night trying to figure out how to best present his dilemma while hiding enough information to make sure that nothing would implicate his royal highness but his efforts seemed to be of no use. The moment he could wrench his mouth open and say anything, it was a garbled jumble of confused phrases that did not make sense even to him. Thankful that Joon had missed it, Jackson took a deep breath and tried again.

“What would you do if,” ventured Jackson with a glance at Joon to make sure he was listening. “What if you feel something you’re not supposed to feel?”

“Uh, not supposed to feel?” echoed Joon with a tilt of his head. “It’ll depend on what feeling that is.” When Jackson didn’t answer, Joon took a wild guess. “Are you angry with someone?”

“Oh no, nothing like that,” Jackson replied hastily with frantic dismissive waves of his hands. “It’s nothing bad,” Jackson added before pausing as he reflected on his words. “Well, bad, I suppose, depending on how you view it. Then again, it’s not supposed to be a bad feeling? At least, not for other people,” rambled Jackson before clutching his hair in frustration. “Gah! I’m so confused,” he huffed before gritting his teeth. Why were his thoughts and feelings in such a mess? 

Joon placed a comforting hand on Jackson’s shoulder and squeezed. “Tell me what it is,” said Joon, “slowly.”

Jackson looked at Joon as they walked and saw his steady countenance, waiting to make sense of what he had to say. Jackson took a deep breath, “I’ve – I mean, I’m in…” but his voice died away. He could not bring himself to say the word ‘love’. Saying it with his own lips would mean admitting that he had dishonoured his royal highness. He firmly believed this but he could not confess. Jackson chewed on the inside of his cheek as he battled with himself. He had to tell Joon if he wanted Joon’s advice and he had come as far as to ask him for help but, at the same time, Jackson just… he couldn’t. He was just so ashamed of himself and his uncontrollable emotions. 

“You’re in love?” offered Joon as a suggestion because it seemed obvious to the older man where Jackson’s words had been heading. By the searing look in Jackson’s beseeching eyes, it looked like he had guessed correctly.

“And you’re not supposed to love this person?” Joon asked to which Jackson nodded vehemently, the beseeching look in his eyes now mixed with a plea for help. “May I ask why?” questioned Joon, his tone gentle, coaxing. He knew the younger was desperate but Jackson’s gaze fell to the ground again, seemingly defeated by the question. “I need to know so that I can understand,” Joon urged gently.

At this, Jackson sighed, bit his lip and then mumbled as his head hung low, “I am unworthy. I’m no one, a mere guard.” Jackson glanced up at Joon with a sorry smile. “I have nothing to offer, nothing that would warrant allowing my heart to feel like this.”

“Ah,” exclaimed Joon, “you fell in love with a lady of the court, didn’t you? Nobility? Even royalty?”

Jackson’s immediate response had been to protest and clarify that it was not a lady whom he had unknowingly given his heart to but then he stopped himself for this would be the best way to conceal the matter and protect his royal highness. After all, it was mainly a matter of social hierarchy. Thus, Jackson nodded.

Joon pursed his lips and hummed as he seemed to ponder deeply about the problem. Jackson was watching Joon’s reaction and the older’s hesitancy seemed only to confirm how warped his predicament was. Anyone would have prevented themselves from allowing such emotions to take root. Actually, others would have had the awareness that they were falling in love. The fact was that Jackson had brought this entirely upon himself. Even Joon thought it difficult… was there any hope?

“You know, Jackson, when I first saw how troubled you were, I thought you were going through something horrible,” Joon said, his voice as heavy as the hand that still rested on Jackson’s shoulder, “but it isn’t. This is not a problem at all,” quipped Joon, his tone turning miraculously light-hearted as he grinned down at Jackson. Jackson’s widened disbelieving eyes at his response only prompted Joon to smile even wider. The poor young guard looked so affronted at the flippant way Joon was treating this matter that he looked like he was about to storm off.

“Jackson, Jackson,” repeated Joon warmly, careful not to be too condescending, “you are not the only guard or knight who has fallen for a lady above one’s station. It happens more often than you think.”

“But- but is that not dishonouring the lady?” Jackson asked, incredulous.

“Not as long as you behave honourably,” replied Joon who took it upon himself to elaborate as he pulled Jackson closer so that he could slip his arm around the younger’s neck. “If you fell in love with the intention to disgrace her by actually wooing her, then that would be dishonourable. As guards and knights, we are permitted to love a lady above our station as long as we do so in courtly love.”

“Courtly love? What’s that?” interjected Jackson. He had never heard the term before. 

“Courtly love is loving from afar. You use that love you feel as a motivation to protect her, be willing to lose your life for her but you never allow that love to develop into anything. You won’t impose on her affections or expect anything in return because you accept that you shall never be the one to stand beside her in the eyes of others. To put it simply, you love by sacrificing yourself and your desires.” Joon’s explanation was followed by a long silence which Joon left uninterrupted because he knew Jackson was grappling with this new idea. The next time the young guard spoke up, they had walked the circumference of the fields and they were now headed back to the castle. 

“That’s, that’s very different from what I’ve heard about love,” mused Jackson, finally speaking up after trying to wrap his head around what Joon had just told him. If, if courtly love was alright, and accepted, then he had not dishonoured his royal highness at all. And if he should continue, it would not a disgrace to his prince! The idea that Jackson did not have to get rid of his feelings was a great relief because he had not been able to stop his feelings despite exerting all his effort to do so since Prince Jinyoung had torn the veil from his eyes. Somewhere deep within him, Jackson knew that even as he battled his emotions by chastising himself, he would not be able to forget his prince and neither did he want to. Now, Joon was telling him of a way to continue loving his royal highness with honour and integrity.

“Well, it’s time you heard a different view of love,” Joon said, smiling again as they reached the castle entrance that was lit by the fire of torches. 

Jackson had not realised how late it was and how long he had kept Joon from the older knight’s own tasks. “Thank you, Joon,” heaved Jackson, “it is… you’ve really helped me tremendously.”

“Ah, my pleasure lad. Anytime you want to have a talk,” replied Joon before giving the young guard a strong but brief one-armed hug. 

Jackson smiled the first genuine smile he had had in weeks. Joon could see the difference in that the shadow of doubt and desperation which had previously clouded Jackson’s eyes had lifted. In place of that shadow were the bright eyes of someone who had found a will and purpose to face whatever the future held in store. 

“Thank you again, Joon,” repeated Jackson for he could not adequately express how grateful he was. After the weeks of being in a horrid place, he could now see a way out and more importantly, it was a way that allowed him to keep his love for his royal highness. They bid each other good night and Jackson went to bed no longer fearing to dream.

 

***

 

Jackson smoothed his tunic which was embossed with the crest of his kingdom as he stood in line with the other representatives. They were arranged in neat rows along the castle court that led to the grand entrance, complete with flags and gonfalons in an array that spoke of celebratory pomp and splendour. At the top of the stairs that led to the inner castle stood Prince Jinyoung and his father, the king, for it was a special day. 

It was the day that royalty and nobility arrived as guests of honour for the tournament. Jaebum had informed Jackson just that morning that Prince Mark would be arriving in the afternoon after having set off a few days before. It would be the first time Jackson would see his royal highness since he first left the kingdom last autumn. The meeting was a meaningful one for Jackson because it was the first time he would see his royal highness with the full knowledge and acceptance that he loved his prince. It had to be a special moment, surely. It had to be. 

Jackson thought he should be given absolute credit for not fidgeting or inclining his head just a little despite his anticipation every time a coach or entourage arrived. It was interesting and somewhat exciting to see the different guests of honour but there was really only one he was waiting for – and it finally came. Jackson recognised the coach from afar immediately. Of course he would, he had had a hand in helping to polish and clean it when he was younger. As the coach neared, led by one of his kingdom’s captains, Jackson’s eyes brightened and when it stopped in front of the castle steps, Jackson was biting hard on his lower lip to stop himself from expressing his excitement. His eyes searched, impatient as the footmen seemed to take forever to hop off the coach in order to fix the little steps to the carriage and even to unlatch the door. 

He first saw a shoe, followed by a very shapely calf half-hidden through a cloak. Then came the top of his royal highness’ head. Jackson noted that Prince Mark was wearing one of his crowns, this one a simple ring with little ornamental gems but it suited his prince tremendously. Was his hair longer now? It seemed so, maybe the shade had also changed. However, before Jackson could pursue that idea further, Prince Mark lifted his head and Jackson was stunned. Every sense of motion and movement in his body stilled. His mind blanked, his heart stopped, his breathing ceased. 

Mark was breathtakingly beautiful. More than ever. 

Jackson watched as his royal highness lifted his eyes to greet Prince Jinyoung and then in the next moment, his royal highness’ gaze met his. 

Since understanding what courtly love was, Jackson had allowed himself to imagine this very moment when he’d see the prince again. He had allowed himself to fancy that the prince would smile that bewitching smile of his, the prince’s eyes lighting up with a happy sparkle, and even saying something along the lines of ‘I miss you’.   
But the moment was nothing like that.

Instead of a smile, Jackson received a grimace. Instead of a happy sparkle, there was barely a dull glint. Instead of words, there was silence. His royal highness did not allow their gaze to linger either. Instead, it was broken by a flick of the prince’s eyes who entered the castle with Jinyoung without any pleasantries.

Jackson’s former excitement and flights of fancy disintegrated and his soul fell crashing to the ground. Did – did the prince not… like him anymore?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the beginning of the last arc of Code of Chivalry. i feel like i've taken a long long time to get here but this arc is one of the main reasons why i began writing this whole fic in the first place :)
> 
> i hope you enjoy it :D


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